As a mental health blogger, I think it’s important that I share with you when I, too, am having a bad day. It’s easy to share my tips and tricks, but there are days when I need to use them, too. After all, I’m only human.
Today is not such a nice day in the UK. There are gloomy grey skies up above and it’s pretty close to freezing outside. I woke up this morning in a state of anxiety, convinced I was having a heart attack. Isn’t that one of the wonderful things with anxiety?
As my husband left for work, I felt that horrendous pull in my stomach,
Don’t leave me!!
The last thing I wanted was to be alone, with my own thoughts.
This winter is hard, people, it’s f***ing hard. There is a sense of morbidity about the family, an unbearable pain and yet a will ade determination to try and enjoy Christmas, just as Dad would have wanted. It’s not the same without him and it never will be the same without him.
Last night, I was taken back to one of the earliest days with Matt. The night was Christmas Eve 2005, my first Christmas without my grandfather. I’d been overcome with emotion and Matt walked me at least part of the way home. My father collected me from the high street and took me home. It was a small thing, and yet the way he guaranteed my safety was so… him.
He was protective of me, and the way he looked at Matt told me as much.
Him! A man! With his daughter!
Fortunately, I’m grateful that the bond between them only grew, and towards the end, my father loved Matt like his own. Even I do miss him and wish we could have bad another Christmas together, I’m at least grateful that he loved the same man that I love.