It’s been just over two weeks since Zero died, but it feels like a lifetime. I didn’t realise that grief did this to you; I didn’t realise that it made you feel like you were walking through a fog, like your feet are sticking in quicksand, and you’re getting sucked down a little more with every step you take.
I got my tattoo done last week (sorry, Ariane, your comment came a little late – I’m writing this after reading your comment this morning, but before replying to it) and it’s a wonderful reminder of him. I’ll eventually get it turned into a sleeve, with that memorial surrounded by things that make me happy. Things from the video games we had in common. Lyrics from the song he said was his theme song. The quotes from Kingdom Hearts we talked about. Colours. Lots of colours.
But right now, it’s quicksand. And a huge pause button hovering around my life.
I binged at the weekend. It wasn’t even anything to do with grief, not really. Annoyingly, it was more to do with lack of bowel movements (argh, talking about poop in public, what?!) and the easiest way for me to… well, to “go”, is to eat a lot of rubbish. It’s horrendous. It makes my stomach hurt, makes my gut rumble for two days, but I’m guaranteed to go by the end of it.
I counted what I ate, and it came out at 5,000kcal. Enough fat content for four days, and enough sugar for six.
My diet’s not been the best lately, anyway. I mean, I’ve not been eating bad foods or anything, it’s just been… blah. Lacking in imagination and any kind of actual depth. I’m eating about 2,000kcal per day, and I’m either gaining or losing weight depending on the time of the month, I think. I’ve got a bike sitting outside, and I’ve got a pair of quad skates, and I’ve got a pair of legs, and I need to start using them all (but not all at once; I’m fairly sure I can’t ride a bike all that well in quad skates) but I’m scared stiff about learning to ride a bike again, and oh god, what if I can’t balance on the skates and what if my back hurts while I’m skating and oh GOD.
This is what I want to be doing:
© Photographer: Warrengoldswain | Agency: Dreamstime.com
Hat on, backpack on, music blasting my brain out, and get my face into the sun.
So why don’t I?
Why would I rather mope around at home, talking to my dead friend in the dark at night (yes, I do talk to Zero when I can’t sleep, shush), and my still-very-much-alive-friends, than go out and get some Vitamin D and endorphins, get some exercise and fresh air and feel better about myself?
It’s really fucking annoying, constantly being down on me. I want to be happy, and I want to love myself. I want to look in the mirror and like what I see, but instead, I’m just… stuck.
I’m wondering if it’s time to go back to therapy.
Or maybe it’s just time to hit the “play” button on that music I was thinking about.