It’s been a ghastly weekend. I have been upset, barely being civil to people, with a knot in my chest and tears lurking behind the eyelids – ready to fall. Can you imagine a sand storm inside your head? That’s what it feels like. Everything is hazy, noisy, and annoying. There is no direction and you feel like you are hurtling deeper into the storm and the end will come when the sand buries you and you sink slowly to unconsciousness.
I’ve been wanting to run away. I was thinking of going ‘home’. But the tragedy is that I don’t know where home is anymore. Is it back to my mom’s house? It was at a point in time, no more. Is it this house where I stay? True, it’s where I find most comfort but here there is no one to run back to. Just me and so much emptiness. Where do I run to when I need some comfort. Some sanctuary where I know things would be okay at least for a while.
I’m trying to work, and it’s not helping in distracting me. That my shoulder hurts like hell is no help either. I can’t focus on work that involves a laptop at all times. I can’t talk to people, in fact I don’t want to even see people. It’s back to those times when I just want to cover up and hide and wake up only when everything is alright again.
I’ve been trying to set a routine, something that structures my day, but things keep happening to throw me off track. And when the routine goes for a toss I am lost. I don’t know where to put the next step. Everything becomes a blur and I grasp at things to make some sense. Just last week I thought I was doing so well at work. And yesterday again I was a blithering idiot; back to the state where I need every step outlined for me, every task detailed out, and where my head can only take one thing at a time. It’s like being a crab in a bucket – you try hard to get out, you clamber upon the sides, you feel you are out of it now, and then you slither back inside to the bottom. Just that in my case there are no other crabs pulling me back. It’s just me who’s losing the grip on the sides. The result is the same though – back in the pit, back at the start of the struggle to put it back together again, knowing you may slide back down any day. And that the impact will take the breath out of you!
Sometimes I wonder at the futility of it. Should I even try? Or just let go? Especially on days like this when I miss him so much that it hurts. Why bother getting out of it? Why not just stay here – in the place where he still visits sometimes, where I can spend all my time just thinking about him. Why try to ‘move on’ as they say? Is it really worth the effort?