I’m in such a curious state of limbo at the moment.
I’m really not sure what I’m doing with myself.
There are things that need to be done, that I should be doing. Answering emails. Writing up a huge thank you post, complete with links, for all the awesome bloggers who have been behind me, all the way.
I know, what you guys have done. I know there’s been an incredible amount of money raised. I know, how you held me up, supported me, taken care of me over the last month or so.
It’s coming. I promise. I’m just so… shell shocked. Unable to process the finer details of anything.
Please know, I’m grateful. Please know the big thank you post is coming.
I am just too freaking exhausted at the moment.
Every morning, every day, I wake up, and think to myself “Not a-fucking-gain. Haven’t we been on this ride long enough yet?”
If I say I’ve had fun, can I get off the rollercoaster?
Limbo. The old Normal, the Purple Normal, it’s gone. Going. Traces remain. And they tear at me, break my heart. Because it’s not quite far enough gone yet, that my mind doesn’t trick me. My mind, sometimes, still thinks Tony is still here.
I wait for him, to walk through our back gate. In the back of my mind, there is still that horrible, awful delusion that I can, eventually, just go Home. And curl up with Tony, and cry, and he will make it all go away.
So, we wait for a new kind of Normal. It’s been a month. It took five years to create the Old Normal. It’s going to take longer than this to create a New Normal.
But we’re getting there. Things are falling into place. Slowly.
I’m not really helping them along. I’m not ready yet, I’m just floating along. I’m exhausted. I know I can do this, that’s not the problem.
I just don’t fucking want to anymore.
Maxabella commented yesterday, after watching my vlog, how can I possibly still look the same?
I wonder that too. Shouldn’t something change, physically? Shouldn’t I have am mark, a stain, a scarlet letter to show what I’ve been through, what I’ve done, what I’ve seen?
Every day, when I look in the mirror, I surprise myself. Because I look no different to what I did, Before.
After Tony died, I opened the bag they gave us at the hospital, the bag with the shoes he’d been wearing when This Happened. I stared at them, expecting… something. Not blood, why am I looking for that? There was no blood.
But I was looking for something. Some indication that these were the shoes he was wearing, when he died the first time, before they bought him back.
Something to indicate that those shoes were, in fact, touching the ground. That his knees were bent, that those shoes were touching the ground, how the fuck did this happen?
I don’t know. And that’s just the thing. Right now, at this point, I am too exhausted to care. I’m happy, just to float around, be sad and lets the days slowly crawl past me.
Until I can be bothered again.
I’ve posted this photo before. But it shows the purple, the colour our house and back courtyard were Before.
And here’s the back courtyard, in the After. My neighbours, the same neighbours that cut Tony down, and performed CPR, they did this for me. With help from my family. I’m forever grateful to them.