May

CW – This post contains strong language and discussions of grief and loss.

Hello.

How is everyone?

We have lots to catch up on.

I’m not sure if this is to be my big re-entrance into blogging. I’m not even sure it’s going to be any form of re-entrance. I just wanted to address my absence (if you’re still there) since I last posted.

My initial break began in March. I was enjoying my job but struggling to balance my time and, as a result my mental health began to take a dip. I realised I was putting too much pressure on myself when it came to blogging, so I decided to take a step back. I made a very brief appearance on Instagram on my 30th birthday, but I haven’t written anything as Sassy Cat Lady ever since.

During my break I read more books, I did puzzles, and I started counselling again. I decided my 30th present to myself would be to sort my shit out. How I feel about myself and my place in the world (I hate myself for how that sounds), how I can’t go to a wedding without severely trashing my own and how I’m mentally torturing myself over whether or not I should have a baby. You know, real light hearted stuff. It was all going well. And then, well, May happened.

May was supposed to be a month of joy and celebration. And don’t get me wrong, my birthday was lovely. I was very spoiled and I had the best bottomless brunch with my Mum and my best friend. My husband went out of his way to make the day special, and I love him for that. But, if I’m completely honest, May was a shitty month from start to finish. And before you say I’m being an ungrateful bitch, let me explain.

On 1 May, I woke up to a message from my Dad, saying he had been very ill for a few weeks and that he was too unwell to see me on my birthday. I said not to worry, to take it easy and look after himself, and that I would come and see him soon.

On 31 May, I sat by his bed alongside my brothers and my step-mum, as we held his hand and told him we loved him while he passed away peacefully.

My Dad died. 

My. Dad. Died.

It’s nearly 3 months on and I still can’t get used to saying it. 

May was a month of pure heartbreak. It was almost like each week, the situation escalated. A few days after my birthday, he was admitted to hospital. A week later, he was diagnosed with cancer. A week later, we found out it was terminal. A week later, he was gone.

A rare form of leukaemia known as AML. Resulting in secondary bone cancer.

Cancer is a piece of shit. F**k you, cancer.

I’m not entirely sure how I’ve gotten through these last few months. Well actually, I am. Two words – heavy drinking.

Okay, that’s not entirely it, but it’s certainly been one of the main things. My husband, my Mum and my friends have been incredible, and the support from my colleagues has been amazing. And, as always, our Queen and Saviour Taylor Swift has been getting me through. Alongside my lovely counsellor, whom I seemed to be gifting a whole new pile of dramz every week throughout May.

Grief is a weird one. One minute I’m fine, the next minute I’m bawling because I’ve seen a car that looks like his (a red Ford Fiesta, so as you can imagine, rather frequently). One minute, I’m laughing my tits off watching clips of Tots TV on TikTok (don’t ask), and then then next, I’m sobbing at the episode of The Big Bang Theory where Howard and Bernadette throw a dinner party with the last of his late mother’s leftovers. Not to mention the physical side of it. The week after Dad died, I genuinely felt as though I was coming down with the flu. Fatigue, nausea, headaches, chills. Oh, and my constant companion, IBS, made a permanent residency.

I have so much more to say. I’ve gone to my laptop multiple times over the last couple of months to put how I feel into words, but quite frankly, I don’t want to bore the hell out of you. At one point, I documented the events of each day since he ended up in hospital, but it’s a good 15 pages long. It’s probably not something I’ll ever publish, because it’s personal to my family and not entirely my story to tell, but it helped me process everything that happened if nothing else.

For me, hearing about others’ grief experiences has really helped (I would 100% recommend listening to the podcast Griefcast if you’re going through a similar experience), and I would love to share more about how the last few months have gone with you. Again, if you’re still there. I’ve probably lost all of my following since I stopped writing.

I’m not entirely sure where this leaves me. A few weeks ago I had my comeback all planned, polishing up content I’d written before my blogging break and setting a timeline, but then I thought – quite honestly – what’s the bloody point? I still don’t feel like I can give the same amount of time to my blog as I once did. I know in that instance, the only person I’m disappointing is myself, and no one else expects anything from me, but still. I want to get that routine back.

For now, I’m not making any promises. I don’t know whether I’m back for good or if this will be the last of me in the blogging world. Either way, I wanted to put something out there. It felt wrong to just disappear. Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I won’t. I really want to come back. But I’m not sure how soon that will be. Because of how much hearing others’ grief stories have helped me, I’d really like to return the favour. So maybe watch this space. If you haven’t already given up on reading this utter shit I pull out of my arse every so often, I would encourage you to stick around a little longer if you can.

There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think of my Dad, but I hope that in time, it’ll hurt less. For now, I’ll wear the necklace he bought me when I was 12, I’ll try my best to keep his plants alive, and I’ll wear his spitfire pin on my jacket.