Sunday’s are a time for reflection. For our son he is not at school but constantly worrying about going back the next day. Constant mood swings. It’s a transition day.
Dealing with death. That’s 5 deaths in 4 years. Again trying to comfort a heartbroken son. A quieter much less fun house. Transitioning to another period of darkness – again. Death is awful and is so so difficult for kids to handle. This grieving process is especially difficult for autistic children.
Trying to refocus for the week ahead yet still so tired from the past week. So many tasks to finish yet so many more tasks to plan.
Son having a couple of hours extra in bed. Hopefully shutting the pain out for a while longer. No laughter, no talking, no warmth. Trying to think about the coming week yet realising the house feels so empty – again.
Hopes for more social interaction yet still strangled by the isolation of the preceding week. Day after day, no phone calls, no chance meetings, no…… I am so so grateful for my friends reading this, you literally are my only connection.
Trying to plan for the educational week ahead yet so frustrated with the constant battles with school. Yes progress but why does it have to be such a tiring fight.
Trying to plan ways to make our son happy yet so broken inside.
I think that’s why Sunday morning is always the time that the icy grasp of sadness is strongest. Especially this Sunday. Ice cold thoughts echo round the confines of our home. Self doubt takes hold. I have never been able to break this cycle. I certainly won’t break it today. Probably never will.
Today started off in the usual manner. Early morning exercise session listening to rock on the radio. Things going fine apart from the usual creaking body. Put me down for the a full body transplant, I’ve used this one up.
Then things started to change.
I hate doing the plank but apparently it’s good for me. This morning it became even more a form of modern day torture. Two cats decided to sit on my arched back while a dog attempted to lick my face off. Apparently this was one of the Spanish Inquisitions favourite tortures. But I survived.
Then almost immediately the radio signal disappeared. The sound of silence. So I quickly grabbed the first cd I could find. Black Sabbath Vol 4 and tried to complete the session.
Vol 4 is a fine album and features a rarity for Sabbath, a slow reflective song. CHANGES. This song finished off my exercises for the day. Normally at the end of a routine it’s an immediate mad sprint for the warmth of the shower. But not today. I just sat on the cold floor. Lost in thoughts.
A line from Changes had shaken me.
And I can still hear her last goodbyes
I can’t. As hard as I try I can’t remember hearing my partners last goodbye to me – blank. I can vividly remember her peacefully sleeping at the hospice as if it was yesterday. I can remember talking to her gently and holding her hand but as hard as I try I can’t remember her last goodbye. I can remember driving her to the hospital with our son but the conversations are gone. Why would I remember them at the time as she was only going in for a couple of tests and would be out by the weekend. I just can’t remember that last goodbye. That haunts me. Probably will always haunt me.
Working from home does have so many advantages. Fundamentally it gives me the scope to flex work around our son. The days of my career coming first have long since gone. Trust me the career first option is the wrong choice.
But home working is not without issue. The biggest one I find is the isolation. I just don’t meet people face to face anymore. This week I have had only one face to face conversation with someone not in our little family group. That’s why blogging is such a blessing for me.
Isolation. It’s bizarre that like our son I often dream of shutting out this strange world on our own deserted island. Yet isolation in ones own house doesn’t tick the same boxes. It frequently draws you into prolonged periods of sadness. Without our son in the house, it seems so empty, so many echoes of the past.
Today my thoughts kept drifting back to holidays with my partner. One image on repeat loop. An image which is on my screensaver. Sorry it’s Switzerland again. I always seem to be blogging about that beautiful country. It was just so special to my partner. The view is looking across the edge of Lake Thun to Spiez Castle (Schloss) with beneath it the hotel we stayed at adjacent to the water. Many days this photograph brings so many happy memories. However today I just keep thinking that I won’t be able to share this view again with my partner. Sad face 😔.
I was blog chatting (or whatever it is called these days) with a friend today and somehow politics came up. When I say politics I mean really silly politics. Our politics is grim. Very grim. One of the only fun elements is when one of our smallest parties enters the elections. The Monster Raving Looney Party. It’s almost as if Monty Python had entered politics. It was started in the 1960s by the musician called Screaming Lord Sutch.
This was the Party who had a real cat called Catmando as its joint leader for 3 years.
Some of its brilliant policy ideas have included:
- Make the tax system more complicated so that it is harder for companies to find loopholes
- Make it illegal to walk under ladders
- To prevent global warming all buildings will have air conditioning units on the outside
- All politicians should paint themselves permanently from head to toe in the colour of their party
- All socks to be sold in packs of 3 in case you lose one
- Introduce a 99p coin
- To save money they would only operate our nuclear missiles at weekends
- Build a really big wall (or hang on that’s not one of the Looney Parties policies).
The scary thing is that actually some of the ‘crazy’ policies they came up with have over years actually become rather sensible and have been adopted by the government. We have pet passports now and who was the first party to propose them. They jokingly proposed 24 hour licensing for places selling alcohol (had been very restrictive hours) and a few years later it became law. Back in the 1960s they campaigned to have the voting age reduced to 18 (now the law and how was this ever considered a mad idea).
Sadly they never quite get into government. Maybe because the looney vote is split. At the last election you had the Looney Party, plus you had a chap called Lord Buckethead, some guy dressed as a fish finger and some chap dressed as Elmo.
Some would argue that recent governments have been infiltrated by loonies.
What am I wittering on about. I don’t really know. I think the point is that when the world seems really bleak and sad. When you want to just stand outside, look at the heavens and scream. To hear your own tears raining down on this increasingly alien land. Just sometimes the only thing that keeps you going is a bit of silliness. It brought me back from the edge. Our dip into politics today certainly made our son laugh. It made him forget about his worries for a few minutes.
If the Looney Party has indeed a track record of starting sensible policies off then maybe they should come up with a policy of banishing sadness and anxiety. Maybe in a few years it becomes reality. I could vote for that.