The Jester (4)

It’s me again, my author’s grief. Believe it or not, I am now over a year old. My author had almost got used to me being around, was almost starting to see me as a friend, so I thought it was time to shake things up a bit. I think she’s already told you that she has found me difficult since the anniversary of B’s death. She wasn’t expecting that, but I had to remind her that I am still here and that I’m going to be around for a while yet. I think she thought that the anniversary might be a magical turning point, but I don’t work like that. She has to do the work; she has to live with me and she has to interact with me for however long it takes. I notice that she has been wondering if she could control me a bit better (she’s always been a bit of a control freak!), if she could perhaps put her sad feelings in a box and just let them out when she wanted to, maybe just in the shower in the morning, or perhaps just on Mondays or, even better, just on some significant dates. Obviously, she doesn’t know me that well, as I don’t work that way! 

I have let her have some positive times this week, though. She has had her hair cut, which always makes her feel better (and her hairdresser kindly gave her this extremely difficult jigsaw, which will definitely take her mind off me!). She even had lunch out by herself on one day and enjoyed it – she’s learning that some places are easier than others to be at alone. She had some friends around one evening for a regular group, and this time she didn’t cry after they had gone - coping with the silence afterwards of clearing up on her own is such a small thing, but I’ve made it get to her before. It was so easy, as B had been such a part of the group. Yesterday, though, she went to an exhibition, had a good walk along the Thames and had what, ordinarily, should have been a good day but I just made her notice me, and I took the enjoyment away. I didn’t ambush her, she wasn’t depressed, but I just kept sending thoughts of B and of her life without him into her mind, for no obvious reason except that is what I do. I just had to remind her that she can’t just shut me away.

I’m making her realise just how different her life is going to be without B. Obviously, she’d already worked out that this was the case, but now I’m starting to make the reality bite – she is on her own. Now she is coming out of the initial mire that I caused, this is becoming more obvious. She, and only she, can get on with her life. She sees the full lives of her friends going on around her and she wants what they have got, but then I make her feel guilty that she is thinking like this. She wonders how she is going to achieve this fulfilment for herself. She doesn’t want to fill her days just for the sake of it, just to be able to push me aside, as that’s just another form of emptiness. Yesterday made her realise that.

On Tuesday, she spent time with her friend who was also widowed recently. As they both understand what I am like, they are able to talk about me, to be open about their feelings, laugh and shed a few tears, and they can talk about their husbands, sharing both the joys and the sadness. More tears in Hyde Park, but they spend time with me, and that pleases me as I know it helps them. They talked about that empty feeling that they both have in their lives and the ‘P’ word, the need to find some purpose in their respective lives again. I think my author’s beginning to realise, though, that this isn’t just about having a project, it’s bigger than that. It’s about finding out how to live on her own, to live with herself, the self that is different now B is no longer around. She knows she needs to find some purpose again, but I’m getting her to see that this isn’t just going to happen overnight, although this is how she would like it, as she knows she would then be closer to being free of me. 

Strangely, she doesn’t mind being on her own and yet she doesn’t want to be alone. I keep throwing these paradoxes at her. She was used to sharing her life with B and wants that again, but she is so confused by all of this! She doesn’t know if it’s me talking, or herself. So, I got her thinking about her rings again, her engagement, wedding and eternity rings: she doesn’t want to / can’t take them off but, logically, if she wants to meet someone else wearing them isn’t helpful! Then I make her think: ‘How can I possibly be thinking like this? Am I just trying to fill B’s shoes, as that would be stupid as well as impossible. Anyway, how am I possibly going to meet someone else? How can I go through all that palaver of getting to know somebody again? Where would I even start? It’s harder for a woman, than a man..., etc, etc.’ Then I just make her feel so, so guilty that she can even be thinking this way when she’s still grieving for B. I can still mess with her head, as well as her heart! I’m not sure that she would even admit to all of this herself, but I’m not her. I can say what I want! I’m not even sure that she’ll let me post this, she can see so very many reasons why not to, but I remind her that she did say that she would be honest!

So, I’m still with her, and I’m still able to knock her off kilter. She is more used to me, but I’m not going to let her put me in a box. In the end that wouldn’t do her any good, so she has to continue along the road with me as her travelling companion until I really am her friend and no longer able to cause her any distress. That’s my purpose, after all. I know mine, even if she doesn’t know hers yet!