How am I?

It's hard to believe that over 2 months have gone by since the night I found J in the pool. It's been an intense period: a whole mixture of getting on with the myriad admin things, clearing and repairing his bit of the house, and attempting to make sure I'll have enough money to live on (that bit is a work in progress!), along with taking a break away from home to spend time at my little cottage in the Pyrénées Orientales, at the foot of the Albères, where I could take a step back, have a week without internet, and walk, swim, snorkel and just chill. 

It was a great chance to take stock of myself and get a sense of how I am, and where I'm at with my 70forseventy challenge.

Plage de Peyrefitte - my snorkeling spot

So how am I?

The first thing to say is the thing that I know some people find difficult to hear: that I'm not floored by grief. I believe that you can only deeply grieve for someone with whom you had a close relationship, and whatever relationship J and I may have once had had long gone and had been grieved for over the last years, along with everything we didn't have and never had. So while the sadness remains, it's predominantly sadness for - as I wrote last time - for his unlived life.

Another favourite walk, the chapelle St Laurent in the Albères above Argelès sur Mer

My overwhelming feeling has been one of relief - that I can walk in the door without holding my breath wondering what I'm going to find, that the prevailing energy in the house is no longer that of either aggressivity or hopelessness, that I don't have to have nurses coming into the house almost every day, that I can stay away from home for more than one night, that J didn't have to suffer the indignity of completely losing mind and body and ending up in a care home, that the uncertainty about his future and mine that was a constant companion in my life has gone. My smartwatch tells me that I'm sleeping better, that my resting heart rate is back down to 46 and that my stress levels have largely returned to normal.

There's relief too that I've regained around 25 to 30 hours every week, which is the amount of time it was taking me to take care of J's needs: his many medical needs and appointments, washing his bedding every day and his clothes often twice a day, dealing with his catheter and his pee bags, deep cleaning his 3 rooms at least once a day, picking him up from the floor when he fell or had a seizure, making regular calls to SAMU and dealing with frequent sessions at urgences and unexpected stays in hospital, organising and cooking his food 3 times a day, dealing with all his admin. All, perhaps, the 'secret' bits that I successfully concealed while living my double life.

A friend said to me after J died that she thought perhaps my 70forseventy experience was in part about preparing for what happened in July. Yes, I thought, that feels right. I've had so much joy in my life from what I've done so far, and from things that my original list is moving me towards - which is really all just about living my version of a simple life, and being even more me - that I've felt a lot stronger and a lot clearer about What Really Matters.

But (or rather, and) ... after that bit of quiet distance, I came to see that the double life I talked about in the last post has actually taken a physical and emotional toll on me over the last 2 or 3 years. 

A surprising reaction

The day after I arrived at the cottage, as I was taking Indie for a walk in the village, I found an older woman on the ground, having obviously just fallen. I went automatically into first responder mode, did all the fall stuff I'd learned, got her into a safe position etc etc. At that point two guys arrived and together we got her up and helped her to sit on a nearby seat. She was okay, but very shaken, and we called her daughter to come and take her home. As I walked away, I realised that I was having what felt like minor flashbacks to the times I went through that at home - probably 50 to 60 times in 2 years - my heart was racing and I felt anxious, which is very unusual for me. Aha - I thought - maybe you're not quite as okay as you want to think you are, are you? 

Decompression

My surprising reaction was a pointer that I still need to decompress, to take time for myself, to do nourishing things and be kind to myself, and to keep on recognising that although I am pretty much okay - and I really am - I'm also not yet completely healed from the stress and - yes, the trauma - of the last 2 years and longer. And that's okay too, and it doesn't stop me Carping Every Diem, because it's a part of life and not something that puts living life on hold until it's dealt with.

My favourite beach for chilling, Racou Plage

And so 70forseventy goes on. Except that ...

Some of the things on my list are no longer do-able, because being now a single parent of an idiosyncratic 12 year old rescue dog with hip dysplasia/arthritis, a heart murmur, and a weak bladder means that I'm limited to a maximum of 5 hours out of the house without her, and to 30 minutes or so walking that includes her. So the long days out, some of the trips, and probably the city explorations are out unless I can find a creative way of making them happen with Indie alongside me. Ah, so ...

And that's fine too. Over the next few weeks I'm going to be revisiting my original list and thinking about whether and how I can make some changes. Next month is my 70th birthday, time to ramp things up move itno the next phase. Bring it on.