So, yesterday. Yes. We were supposed to be going down to my mother’s place for a gigantic shindig, in our role of *cough* ‘willing’ slaves who will unfold folding tables for food.
I was not keen. I was even less keen after having been back at work for two (tiresome, tiring) weeks and having been In-Lawed the previous weekend. General preference not to speak to anyone anymore about anything, thank you, building to a strong desire to scream ‘Fuck off and leave me alone!’ by Friday afternoon.
And anyway, as I mentioned, the numb, ‘ah, feck it,’ stage of grief was wearing off, like lidocaine. I was horrifically aware of just how angry and miserable I was about the recent miscarriage, and, infuriatingly, about Pikaia’s miscarriage (what? Haven’t I got over that? Umm, apparantly not. Heigh ho). Had stopped sleeping, was whiling away the midnight hours by bickering with H or chewing my nails down to the quick again.
I was not at my most sane and collected.
By lunch-time, also known as leave-to-catch-train-time, I was having a meltdown (naked, in the shower, for added class). (The shower was on and there was shampoo in my hair. Does that help?).
By the time I had removed myself from the bathroom and put clothes on, I was a weeping hysterical mess, and had lost my glasses, and was about to throw furniture at H for mentioning the fact we had to go and catch the train.
By 2pm, I’d stopped sobbing, and we’d decided H would go to the shindig, as he’d been looking forward to it and because my mother had enrolled him as Court Photographer. I would stay at home all by myself and knit and read books and do my creative writing homework and blow my red-raw nose as many times as I felt the need to, and hey, maybe, even stop crying. We both agreed that me spending the shindig locked in the upstairs bathroom doing any of the above would… not be so good. As well as inevitable. So H went off to catch the later train (complete with the only tube of toothpaste in the house, oops), and I made myself yet another cup of tea and put Lord of the Rings in the DVD player.
Dear Readers, it was bliss. Sometimes, what a person really, really, needs, is, in fact, for everyone to fuck off and leave her alone for 24 hours.
I told H he may as well go for complete honesty, so he did, and reported back that everyone, at least, everyone whose opinion who I gave a stuff about, was fine about it, merely sending messages of love and condolence. No one made a big stupid deal of it, and no one said anything objectionable, at least, not in H’s hearing.
I shall have to show my teeth and not go to more family parties. It seems everyone actually does like me and respect me for it, even if they tend not to tell me that to my face.