LHB Blog

A girl, a blog and a cactus named Pudding

Category: Grief, Loss & Healing (Page 1 of 2)

In which I blame Bill Bryson

Alternative title: I’m huddled in a duvet on the sofa, my partner’s hoodie acting as a comfort blanket, my face puffy from crying, with Millie-Mischief the Bengal patting my head in some weird consolation type thing (or maybe she just likes my hair – who knows what’s going on in her kitty mind) … And yet, part of my brain is wondering just where the hell I can get myself a Stephen Katz to go hike the Appalachian Trail with. 

To me that doesn’t seem unreasonable, to just simply pack a rucksack, select a 3-season tent, grab a shit ton of Jelly Tots (though I’d settle for Fruit Pastilles) and hike all 2,200 miles. Yep, 2,200 MILES. Total doddle that.

Except I’m the lass who whinged and moaned and turned the air a lovely shade of dark blue during her last jaunt up Helm Crag – which incidentally, is a drop in the proverbial ocean compared with the Appalachian Trail! Much like with running, I love the idea of it … But when actually running/hiking, I bitch for England about how unfair it is and how my poor feet are going to end up as giant blisters which will eventually pop and end up stuck to my socks.

Maybe I’ve got this all wrong …

Maybe I should be looking for a Bryson to hike with because clearly, I’m the Katz!

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Hello Grief

Alternative title: I’ve been expecting you … 

I think I’ve been in denial, I’ve been trying to live as ‘normal’ a life as I can … Going to work, going to exercise classes, going for the 6am runs. Not really acknowledging the full extent of how my life has been irrevocably changed … How when my father passed away a gaping void suddenly opened up in my world that will never fully heal.

That was until I saw my counsellor … She opened the flood gates.

Everyone has asked me how my family are coping … My mum, my brother.

She was the first one to really ask how I was … And when she did, I felt the loss, the pain, the anger, all in one scrunched up ball. Crushed so tightly together that it was impossible to feel one without another. I’d held my emotions so close that releasing even a fraction of them was startling and terrifying.

But that’s the point of counselling isn’t it … To release them. To acknowledge them. To accept them … But that also means accepting that he is really gone. And I don’t want to accept that. I’m not sure how to accept that.

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There is no right way to grieve

Alternative title: I’m going to be channeling my inner Kanye West for the rest of this post so … Yeah. Not sure if you need a warning for that or if you just want to see what the heck goes down.

Since losing my dad to cancer a lot of people have been offering advice as to how they dealt with their grief. Some of it has been amazing, supportive and invaluable pieces which I honestly have taken on board … This post is for the pieces that were, well, less than helpful. They are the throwaway comments that leave a lasting impression of “what the actual f-?”

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Decluttering Life Part 1 : Belongings

Alternative title: Why the crap do I own so much stuff? 30 bras (most of which are pretty much falling apart), a mini library of books that I’ve acquired (many in genres I have NO interest in reading), CDs from bands I stopped listening to (when I realised their lyrics were drivel) and not to mention clothes with tags (yes really), DVDs (as in cheesy horror box-sets that make my eyes bleed), paperwork upon paperwork upon paperwork … What the actual?!  

Recently I’ve been thinking more and more about the meaningful things in life; the need to downsize my belongings (recycle and donate whatever I can) and live within my means, the need to remove people I consider ‘toxic’ (post to follow!) and replace them with positive influences and experiences, to spend quality time with those I love and to stand up for causes I believe in.

I suppose this is all rather normal when you undergo a life changing event … But there is a difference between thinking about it and doing it.

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