I started the day by picking up a dead bird from the decked patio. Nice.
I’ve lived in my home for 11 and a half years and this was a first for me. Perhaps it had happened previously. Perhaps it’s just one of those things the man of the house would sort out, and not deem it necessary to share.
The bloody bird (quite literally) couldn’t have been killed in the hidden bits of the garden. It had to happen where I had no choice but to clear it up.
I’m a City girl. I’m so not the type of girl that picks up dead birds. For two seconds, I thought about calling one of my male neighbours to help. A damsel in distress and all that.
I manned up and picked up the dead bird.
My wonderful Cambridge consultant Mandy, helped to clean out the decking with water. Thanks Mandy.
Following that crap start to the day, my craptastic day continued. Of course the branch of the bank that I needed to go to sort out some of the mess I’ve been left to deal with was closed. There I was trawling around like a headless chicken trying to find another branch, tiring myself all out. Even the shopping mall, a place that for 14 years used to be joyful, is now filled with sadness.
My torment might have been obvious as some random man asked me if I needed some help. He asked for my name and offered to pray for me.
“That’s very kind of you, thank you. Please do. I need prayers.”
The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me.
My wonderful sister who is a medical doctor, saw a picture I took today and commented on the bags under my eyes. Being the lovely person that she is, she started by saying that I looked beautiful. She then diplomatically asked me to check whether the side effects of any of my medications included oedema.
“No, the bags have been there since Lilly Wong. [Fake name of husband’s mistress] I’m hoping they will go when I start sleeping well.”
I have resolved that I will give myself all the time in the world to recover from the breakdown of a 14 years relationship that without any warning, went from being a happy, forever after thing, (yep, that fantasy) to being so easily discarded (by email no less) like a brief meaningless fling.
I am resigned to the fact that it might take a while for me to recover from my grief.
But how long is too long?
Why am I writing this post on a Friday night?
Why am I sobbing my eyes as I write this?
Why was I going around today with my business, with tears running down my face?
Shouldn’t all of this be getting easier?
Shouldn’t life be getting easier?
Why is life still so bloody hard?
Why do I still feel the shock of betrayal like it was yesterday?
Why am I still wasting any second of my short life crying over someone who doesn’t give a shit about me?
In other news, I lost 0.6kg, 1.32lbs today. Not earth shattering loss but a loss is a loss is a loss.
Week Twenty One’s verdict: today’s weight 97.7 kg, week’s weight loss 0.6 kg (1.32 pounds); total weight loss; 26.7 kg (58.7 pounds)