The Jester (2)

Hello, it’s me again, Jester, my author’s grief. I seemed to get such a positive reception last time (an unusual thing for me!) that I thought I would show my face again. 

At the moment, I am messing with my author's head and she doesn't really know whether she is coming or going. I am now making the majority of her days roll by in, what seems like, a film of greyness. A lot of the time she doesn't feel too bad (or too good) and she's reconciled to the fact that this is just how it is. I think this means that she's getting used to me as her companion, although underneath it all I still make sure that there's that deep undercurrent of sorrow. I'm just there, in the fabric of everyday life and she is finding it hard to get her head around the change from the roller coaster she was on before. Don't misunderstand me, though, I still give her days where she hits rock bottom, and that more often than she would like! It's so easy, I just have to set her brain whirring with some thoughts about B and his absence, or some doubts or regrets, and there she is, a soggy mess!

I am now having fun reinforcing how different life is going to be with me around instead of B (holidays are a good example, as they were always especially good times), and when she thinks about this I can make her cry, again. But, now, as she cries, I make her ponder whether she really should have stopped doing this by now (get your head around that paradox!). I keep telling her there are no rights or wrongs, but I notice that she's beginning to doubt herself. The problem is, she wants to be in control, but actually it's me who's in control and there's not a lot she can do about that.

Have you noticed how initially, after B died, I only really made her aware of how she was feeling and thinking in relation to herself? By my very nature, I, grief, am essentially a selfish phenomenon, which, by the way, now makes her question my legitimacy. I make her worry that she's just feeling sorry for herself. Nowadays, she observes those around her, and she has started to gauge herself against them. I let her see how everybody else is carrying on as usual, and I make her query whether she should really be over me by now (there it is again – I like to sow these little seeds of doubt!). In turn, this sometimes causes her to try to hide or suppress me (not always successfully), despite the fact that she told herself she would always be honest about how she's feeling. She has started to watch what reaction she gets and I have started to make her feel that she needs permission to continue to show her grief. I do like these contradictions!

Life does go on, though. I can let her enjoy herself and have a laugh, but then I get a dialogue running in her head, that goes something like this: 'how can I be enjoying myself, how can I laugh, when B isn't here? Do those with me understand that I'm not really happy, although I know I look happy, so why should they understand? Perhaps they do understand, but they just want to see me happy...'. Of course, at other times she feels miserable, and then I make her think: 'oh no, I shouldn't be feeling this miserable again after all this time; why do I have to cry so much, what will people think, but they don't understand what it is like; I should be stronger than this...'. So, I make her mind go round and around and then, either way, I make her feel guilty for thinking like this. You see, as I said, I'm quite good at messing with her head. 

Saying all this, she has been less stressed recently. I only mention this as I noticed she was getting very stressed a couple of weeks ago. You should have seen the fun I had with her when she was trying to sort out the details of her new front door! She, literally, felt sick by the end of it! It’s fascinating the influence I have over her, without doing hardly anything. She knows that these things aren't, ordinarily, particularly difficult, but I can easily stress her out and, dear me, she gets overwhelmed very easily. Her resilience remains low. I can still increase her heart rate, make her feel jittery, make her light-headed, disturb her sleep, and make her feel sick doing the simplest of things. The other day she was clearing out some of B’s old computer files. This isn’t a difficult job, but she did have to check some of the files to make sure they weren't important, useful or precious. Most of the files were completely innocuous, though, and could just be deleted without her even looking at them, but after a short while I made the nausea rise up inside her and she had to stop. She hasn't gone back to them yet. Granted, she is getting better at noticing when she needs to stop doing something and do something different. I'm also aware that she's trying to make sure she has a few things in her diary to keep her occupied, so that she doesn't spend too much time on her own, as she's learning that isn't good for her. Her arty stuff also helps to settle her mind (whatever the finished product is like!). These things do seem to soften the effect I have on her.

So, if you should bump into my author and me, please be kind. She may try to hide it, but I'm still affecting her more than she likes to let on. It may be seven months since B died, but it still feels like yesterday to her and each new day she faces the challenge of surviving another day without him. You would think it I would make it easier as time passes, but at the moment I just remind her how much further away B is getting...