Of fragility and resilience

I’ve been thinking about writing another blog entry all week. But I haven’t taken the time and peace to write anything down. And I didn’t want this to be exclusively practical grief work. However, today was another difficult day – the second this week – and I realize that I need to get things off my chest more than on days when I’m doing well. We have to get through this together and hopefully in the next few months we will be able to write about easier days and positive experiences here.

Perceived stability

Since the last post, I had a phase in which I didn’t have any real setbacks. Work was a lot but ok, I listened to a lot of music, took advantage of the hours of sunshine that came my way and went to the gym at least twice a week. Sometimes I was nostalgic, but I didn’t cry. It somehow felt “normal”. Then I dreamt about Verena three nights in a row. They were dreams of beautiful normality, of vacations together, simply of spending time together. The morning is always difficult because there is such a gap between the dream and the empty apartment. Even the hangover only helps briefly when he strokes my legs because he’s looking forward to his breakfast. I often have my headphones on here in the apartment. I used to so as not to disturb Verena. Now it’s also to get rid of the silence in the apartment.

They are nice dreams, but at the moment I’d rather not dream about her. Because this discrepancy makes me feel sorry for myself. After the third night, the thought settled in my head that I had exactly this one person in my life with whom I could and wanted to talk openly about almost everything. And she reassured me and was there for me in my weak phases, even when she was in hospital fighting cancer. And now she’s no longer there and I have to cope on my own.
No, that’s not true, I don’t have to cope alone. I have great people I can talk to, who care that I’m doing well. But I can’t see that at the moment. So I drag this shitty feeling behind me throughout the day. That day I have an appointment at the eye clinic. It’s the same way up to the clinic where Verena lay and died. It’s a different building, but it all looks the same. I don’t feel well at all up there and while I’m still waiting for the first treatment, I have a panic attack and just want to get out. Thanks to the incredibly understanding young woman at reception, I get another appointment in March and go back home to lick my wounds and continue to feel sorry for myself.

I hadn’t expected the appointment at the clinic to knock me out like that. Sometimes all it takes is one or two small triggers to bring the seemingly stable structure crashing down. You don’t usually talk about things like panic attacks. But I was surprised to see who all reacted with understanding and their own experiences.

Creating resilience

I told friends about it that very evening. Sharing helps to dispel the feeling that I have to deal with it alone. Because, as I said, I’m not alone. I’ve been talking openly about my fears and feelings for a few years now, especially in the final stages of cancer and after her death. I used to find that extremely difficult, but I just realize how much it helps me. I don’t think you can create a sustainable social network without honest communication. And that is an elementary component of resilience in your own life.

Almost another week has passed since then and it’s been a good week. I did sports twice again and read a bit in the sun. I sometimes try to overcome negative feelings by being busy and making plans. The advantage of this is that when I was feeling so bad that day, I at least had a clean balcony that I now enjoy sitting on. After all, I had cleaned it ready for spring in the days when I started out feeling bad. Over time, a to-do (actually more of a could-do) list fills up with constructive things that I can take care of. Over the course of the week, I cleaned and cleared out the kitchen (why exactly do I need 2 hand mixers? A friend is now getting one). And I ordered and installed fly screens. Due to my spider phobia, I would have a real problem leaving my bedroom window tilted open at night because of the creatures that are always crawling around. It will work with fly screens. I’ve also ordered a new string of lights for the balcony because the old ones aren’t working properly and are getting dimmer and dimmer. I want to make my life better bit by bit by doing small, inexpensive things.

This week, I also looked back at how my life has gone over the last few years and realized how incredibly privileged I am. Although the apartment is actually too big for me and I now have to bear the costs completely on my own, it’s not a problem. And the cat likes it anyway. Financial security is important to me and I have a very good overview of my income and expenditure. For years, I learned to get by with very little money. When I had more at my disposal, I was able to keep a close eye on my spending and create some leeway, which gave me a bit of peace of mind. For me, this is also an important building block for resilience in my life.

Fragility

Yesterday, while dusting and moving a plant, I unfortunately knocked the cockatoo plaster figure off the Kallax and it shattered. Verena had brought the figurine with her from her previous apartment and it felt really bad today. My first reflex was to order a new one. But I decided against it. The new figurine would have nothing to do with Verena and ultimately it’s just a figurine from Depot. I have enough memories of her that can’t just fall down and break.

Her clothes are not one of them. After individual items have been given away to friends, the rest is now gradually being sorted out and given to the Kleiderkammer (www.kleiderkammer-bonn.de) and the Zentrale Sammelstelle Sachspenden Bonn (https://www.zesabo.de). There is no right time to go through and give away the clothes, but I think now is the right time for me. I will report how it went.

Notes

This text has been machine translated from German.