July 15, 2017
I just wish I could cry. I’ve spent the week recovering from the crisis. I didn’t go to work, the camping gear still isn’t unpacked, we ate mostly salads for dinner, and the laundry is backed up. I made time to take my son to counselling, which he didn’t really end up needing after all. He talked to her alone for an hour and she gave me the all clear, saying that he was excited to go on other camping trips and wasn’t negatively affected at all.
I’m trying to get back into my new routine; I did my regular weekly walk with a friend this morning, ran some errands, cleaned house, etc., but all with the threat of breaking down crying hanging over my head. It’s so hard to just have to get back on the horse again and again and again. When I didn’t have a chronic life-threatening illness an episode like the one last weekend would have been a big deal, one that was unexpected and worthy of time to work through. When it’s just a semi-normal part of your life it doesn’t feel right to dwell on it or give it any time. I don’t want to worry my friends and family any more than they already are, so I feel I have to minimise it, even though I’m having a really hard dealing with it myself.
I wish I could cry about it all and get it over with, but the tears just won’t flow. There’s an emotional block in me that won’t let me be that vulnerable. Instead I’m tired and short tempered. I’m trying to avoid my husband and son as much as I can, since generally the people closest to you are the ones that annoy you the most when you feel like this. It doesn’t work. I swear they both get less independent the more I need them to be.
I just want to be alone.