On Friday I had a lovely day. It wasn’t my best with my head pain but I spent a lovely afternoon with Darc just relaxing and catching up.
After, I knew my mum needed a few things from Tesco and as I was out I offered to get them. By this point I was in a lot of pain but it was just a bottle of milk and a few pots of soup. Nothing wild. I’d picked myself up a coat from upstairs and went in search of the soup. I ended up with 3 tubs because I’m indecisive and headed to the milk. Picking up a couple of pints and slung it in the basket.
It was at this point I knew I’d fucked up. I had to carry the basket with two hands, clutched to my body with my back leaning backwards with the weight. Yes, the weight. Of a few pots of soup and some fucking milk. I felt so humiliated to be struggling so much with so little. I waddled my way to the till and unceremoniously deposited the offending items to the conveyor and loaded them into a bag. For ease I put the coat on, then grabbed the bag like a normal person would and realised it was still too heavy to carry like that.
So I hefted up the bag with both hands, clutched it again to my body and waddled to the car, where I fought to get the door open with no free hands. I finally succeeded, depositing the bag to the passenger seat then dropped into the drivers side and I wept.
I was so deeply humiliated, facing defeat by what was literally just a few items. I know they weren’t, but my mind was telling me that everyone was watching, judging, not helping. There was a time when I wouldn’t need a basket for that few items, a time when it was the sort of weight i could swing from my pinky finger and barely notice it there. It was such a shock to realise that some soup and milk was the undoing of me.
I don’t often do the shopping as I can’t make it round the supermarket for a full shop. If I’m out I often pick up a few little bits we need, but nothing more than a bottle of milk or a few salad bits or veg. I think because of that it came as a huge shock that I was struggling with so little. It just brought reality crashing down and slapping me in the face. There are things I make allowances for to help me cope that are just second nature now. Like I know if the kettle or filter jug are above half full then I need to use both hands. But I tend to do that anyway as my coordination has been impacted by the drugs I take and I get the shakes. I’ve scalded fingers a few times, enough to introduce measure to make me safer. Like using both hands. But I don’t even think of these allowances I make anymore, they’re second nature.
And then I go and pick up too much in Tesco and reality hit me and suddenly my mind is reminding me of all the little allowances I have to make that prevent me from seeing just how much I struggle.
I’ve kind of become numb and unresponsive to my life and the things I write about. And then something happens that makes me see and feel it all, there’s suddenly no more hiding. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.
My reality was brought to light at the end of last week when my friend Ricky wrote my letter to Kate Bingham. I’d sent him a mind dump and he used that and my blog to produce a very emotional, poignant plea for help. That brought me to tears and really moved me. Not just it’s contents but the effort Ricky put in to help me, by producing such a beautiful letter. I know you’ll read this, so I want to say thank you again Ricky, this meant so much! But reading my story written by someone else was so very hard. As I said, I’m numb to what I am writing most the time. It’s just a brain dump that I then publish without rereading. Then reading what Ricky wrote was my undoing. I sent the letter straight away, just as soon as I’d cleared the tears from my eyes so I didn’t bottle it. But it bought my reality to light once again, made me face the weight of the last 16 months. It’s impossible to be numb when reading your own story as if for the first time.