Good Grief 292

Having crawled to the end of the week I got home and cried.
There are times when work feels crippling and yesterday clinched it. It can often feel too overwhelming and I can often feel grossly inadequate and just not up to it on a range of fronts, the relentlessness, the diversity, the complexity, the sheer hand banging systems, the gaps, the expectations, the limitations of me, of the system....the list could go on but there is no point in dwelling on it too much, other than to reflect on safety, good practice and self (oh, bugger, that sounds like quite a lot).
As I sat finishing off lateish on Friday I got to that point I can get to when I am slightly paralysed. There's more to do, the building has emptied with that astonishing 4.59.999 pm flurry and the 5.00.0001 pm feeling of a sucked vacuum. I think of my husband's breath tests and the vacuum chamber he had to do them in that always left him sweating and traumatised.
I find it hard to move, knowing I need to go home and desperately wishing he would be there with a hard day hug and a feeling of a life meaningfully connected to the world of my own to return to. The missing is endless.

As I thought about a particular situation that had got under my skin this week I was mightily relieved that I had spoken to someone on Thursday who talked about the residual impact and the ripple effect.

As I got up this morning I felt as though I had been slugged between the eyes and my body ached. There were some hefty showers and as I looked out I saw my car was draining out onto the street. If you looked at the car itself it looked just the same as it has ever done. You can get in it and it will do its thing. But, look, its life blood is seeping into the tarmac. I wondered if it had died and I hadn't noticed. I thought about the ebb of self as it drains quietly away unnoticed.

And then I got going. I rejoined my little journey.
https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/2341357217602604390
I had originally thought (absurdly) that by following the line that was more 'historical' it would be absorbing and interesting. I thought it would be less raw than anything that connected with the more recent past and the loss of my husband ...that somehow the pain of his death would protect me from the pain of the previous death and any other losses whilst we're at it.
I realised as I headed out today that that was barking nonsense and thankfully have kicked that little flight of fancy into touch. I realised I didn't really give a stuff so long as I went and let it do its thing.
It was cold but I wanted to swim with the chaps.

As I headed up I thought about a recent death on the other side of the county. I thought about my own work this week and two people in particular. I realised the importance of working with and alongside the rituals of the other. When food is the issue...go with it, follow those rituals, inhabit them. They will lead you to where you need to go. I need to remember this. Looking fine does not mean fine. Such a hidden thing. Follow those rituals. Think of the car. Those bleeding internal organs.

As I carried on up there is a tree I always stop at. With my head still muggy I rested it against the tree. I had been reminded of Emily Dickinson...
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45706/i-felt-a-funeral-in-my-brain-340
Suddenly I was aware of a shared great weight, a huge gravity.
She and I have been together for 30 years. She'd better not fall down or be felled.
I swam. It was so cold. It was lovely.
As I headed home I decided to wash the car.