Feelings on Father’s Day

How am I doing this year?
I’ve been thinking about Dad extra amounts this week. More has reminded me of him. I’ve felt quieter and more subdued. I’ve been nervous about how today would be. 

This morning I’m trying to keep busy, but also keep in mind the knowledge that I can still celebrate Fathers Day. I have a wonderful Dad, that in twenty six years with me, gave me a wonderful childhood, advice and so much love. 

Looking forward, this time next year, we will be celebrating Father’s Day in a different way. We will be parents, caring for our gorgeous little boy or girl. A child far less fortunate than myself, in regards to parenting. Jim will step into that role. He will be wonderful. He is so much like my own Dad. 

Please don’t feel sorry for me, or any other grieving children today. Just promise me you will spend time with your own Dad’s while you still have the chance.

Hate breeds hate

I am saddened to see so much hate on my newsfeed this morning. 

So many close minded opinions, sharing of religious statements taken out of context and articles plucked from thin air to prove your way is right. 

I love a healthy debate. One in which each person in turn airs their views, open to be swayed by others in a way to understand eachother and consolidate what you believe.

I agree we have to challenge those that are doing wrong in our eyes, not to condemn but to understand why they think differently from us.

Next time you see hurtful comments or articles shared, instead of tutting and ignoring it, or sending hurtful comments straight back why don’t you ask a challenging open question?

E.g.

  • I am intrigued by your point of view. I would like to understand how you came to think this way?
  • I understand your anger, I am saddened by what is happening too. What do you think you or I can do to help on a day to day basis?
  • I am trying really hard to understand where you are coming from. Could you please send me useful links so I can research this for myself?

Can you hear the difference? It is obvious you are from another opinion, but you are open to be swayed or challenged. 

Maybe this way you will either:

  1. Receive a very well thought out answer that may help you understand where they are coming from.
  2. Have the opportunity to share your beliefs also in an open and relaxed discussion
  3. Or more hateful statements will be returned and at this point you can choose to leave the conversation or ask another kind and considered open question.

I am going to be selective on what I write and when. Maybe private messages rather than comment sections will be more amicable?

I have no idea if it’s going to work, but I can’t swipe passed anymore hate without doing something about it.

I would appreciate your support.

Please share your kind and open opinions on what I have said in the comments section below.

Remember love online, offline, always.

The same black dress

 

I didn’t think yesterday would hurt as much as it did.

But it’s still so soon. It seems like only a fortnight ago we had the whole family round for my Dad, and now this.

I woke up in the morning with a huge knot in my stomach. With gritted teeth,Β I put the same black dress on I had worn last summer. I painted on war paint. Heavy makeup so I couldn’t cry. Nothing could pass through my mascara. Like filling a hole. Like glueing my insides shut. Nothing would get in, nothing could seep out.

I got in the car.

I told Jim that I wasn’t going to cry. I was determined for this not to get under my skin. Not to reach me. I would build a wall where no emotion could pass. Self preservation at it’s finest. I didn’t take tissues in with me. I didn’t need them.

I sat through the Crematorium part of the ceremony. I was in a daze. My mind kept drifting away. I wasn’t concentrating on the words or what was in front of me. Like it wasn’t really happening. I stood up and walked away. I gave no-one eye contact. I refused to let them in.

I kept moving, flitting from one group to the next. Avoiding small talk, questions and conversation without looking alone. All a tactical ploy. All part of the plan. I swerved conversation to happy things and I dodged the curve balls.

It was working. My mascara hadn’t moved. I felt in control. Now onto the church.

I opened the order of service.

It hit me.

The same song. The same song as last summer. Sitting right there. How could I possibly sing that? How could I hear others sing that? I flicked through the pages to find other songs repeated. How could I get through this? I felt like I had been set up.

I decided I wouldn’t sing. I would stand crossed armed and closed mouthed. I would let the words pass over my head and then sit back down. no one would even know.

The organ introduced the first few chords.

My throat felt like it was going to burst. A single tear leaked onto my right cheek. I didn’t wipe it away. I just felt it trickle down my skin.

But then more started seeping out. This time from both eyes. I closed them shut and leaned into Jim. I felt my shoulders shaking and my fists tighten.

I lost it.

I cried more than I had since my Dad was diagnosed fifteen months ago.

All of my anger and sadness and confusion and frustration poured out of my body.

My sister passed me her tissue.

Why was I crying? I was so angry at myself. I wanted to be strong. I thought I could do it.

 

My eyes kept leaking right into the evening.

I was a mess.

Over nothing and over what happened then and now and everything.

I couldn’t even put into words why I was so overwhelmingly sad. Only that everything I had been holding in all this time was bubbling up and I couldn’t stop it.

 

 

It was lovely though. The day. Everyone being together.

 

I finally got home, slipped off my black dress.

And went to sleep.

 

I am feeling more myself today. I think I still have more to let out.

But that can wait for another day.

Ten things I can’t do

So in the past week a few of you have commented

Is there anything you can’t do?”

I thought that was funny.

Of course there are loads of things I can’t do. I just don’t share my flaws and fails on social media, well not all of them anyway.

To be honest I’m a Jack of all trades, but a master of none.

So just to prove I am in fact an actual human I have listed ten things I can not do.

Enjoy πŸ˜‚

 

ONE          I can not for the life of me play an F on guitar. My little finger just will not reach and I am really annoyed about it.

TWO        I can not answer the phone without giving myself a major pep-talk first, even if it is a close family member or my best friend. Sometimes the pep-talk works, and sometimes it doesn’t so Jim answers the phone for me.

THREE     I can not spell. Honestly. I think I have to be the worst non-dyslexic primary school teacher speller in the world. I rely on spell check.      always.

FOUR       I can not go a day without social media. I’m obsessed. It’s not good.

FIVE         I can not be a proper Vegetarian, however hard I try. It’s McDonalds. It’s my down fall.

SIX           I can not wait. I need to do everything 5 minutes ago. My mind flits from one thing to the next, projects rarely get finished around here.

SEVEN    I can not feel true sympathy for others. I fake it really well. And I know normal me would genuinely care. Sometimes I do. But it’s just hard right now.

EIGHT    I can not read and finish a novel. Well I’ve maybe finished two books in my life, and they were teen fiction. I enjoy books but usually choose podcasts or audiobooks instead.

NINE       I can not sleep if anything in my bedtime routine changes. 

TEN.        I can not try new foods without major preparation for a whole day before.

I am human.

I just only share the good.

Mostly.

Now you know ❀️

One Year

So this little blog of mine is a whole year old.

I started it so I could sort out my feelings of things happening in my life at the time.

It has seriously been so useful to me.

When hearing of my Dad’s diagnosis, I didn’t know how I felt about anything. Everything was up in the air. I would flit from one emotion to the next. I needed something concrete to set my feelings onto. If I wrote them down they would become truth as I felt it in each moment.

And so ‘indigo_hart’ was born.

By writing and sharing I have frozen in time one of the most significant years of my life.

Everything I felt and thought is here. I can go back and read them anytime, and I often do.

It’s a way of checking how I am progressing on coping with living life and death.

It has also been doubly useful as it has been a way of sharing with all that wanted to know how I am doing without them having to ask me. It keeps people at a safe distance. You don’t need to ask and I don’t need to tell.

I like that I don’t have to say my thoughts out loud and yet everyone around me just knows, they totally get where I am at.

It has kept emotional injuries to a minimum. It has kept me in control.

I think that’s it.

This blog brings order and control into a situation I have no control over.

 

So it’s been a year. It’s been an incredible, catastrophic, terrifying and daunting year.

But, life’s challenges do not stop here.

Life keeps rolling,

as will this blog.

 

Haircuts

I have avoided the hair salon for 7 months.

Instead I have been cutting my own hair in that time, you’ve probably noticed, but I couldn’t face it.

I couldn’t face the usual questions…

So what have you been up to…

So what’s new…

Any holidays planned

I wouldn’t know how to answer them.

They would get a shock if I answered them honestly…

So what have you been up to…

Oh burying my Dad and then carrying on at work like nothing’s happened, you know the usual.

So what’s new…

“Oh you know, apart from my world turning inside out and upside down, not very much, you?

Any holidays planned…

“Well no actually, we’ve had to sell our beautiful holiday house because my Dad died and we are all really sad about it”

I just think I would leave them feeling really guilty and lost of words and I’d end up with a pretty awkward haircut and would feel awful for ruining their day.

I have just made stuff up before now, said I’m going to the zoo and made up a little family I could take, that was years ago, way before my Dad died. I’ve never like the public personal salon questions.

I know they don’t mean it. Sometimes I wish I could ask for silence but that would be awkward too!

I braved it yesterday. 

Luckily the guy loved himself so much that he just wanted to talk about him. 

Finally.

 I can deal with that. So I’ll be using him again, even if it’s just for the one sided conversation! 

Do any of you guys find salon question time difficult to face? How do you cope with it?

Xx

Seven months

It has been seven months.

I think about him more and more these days.

I have come to realise that he is not coming back to us. 

This breaks my heart.

I have been in complete denial, to the point that earlier in the week I saw a Facebook post about their Dad’s passing and I genuinely thought “oh no, it must feel so awful to loose your Dad”. 

Silly me.

I know it is awful.

It’s just not the stab wound I was anticipating…. not for me anyway, more of a long term injury. Gradually the pain is seeping in and will not heal.

I genuinely think about him everyday. 

Oh the things I would tell him if I could, so much is happening. 

Today I feel sad. I haven’t had a sad day in months. I’ve been far too busy to be sad. It’s strange and doesn’t make sense, I know. But it is as I feel it.

I hope you have a productive Saturday 
Xx