I feel very unsettled today.
T is, I’m sure, happily enjoying her holiday in Spain. I am glad. Knowing that she is happy and safe gives me a contented feeling. I was okay, yesterday, with her being away, but today I feel very unsettled. I was starting to be ridiculous with counting, counting and recounting how many days it was until she is back, so I set a timer on my phone. It’s on the home screen, and it currently says 12 days, 4 hours and 27 minutes until she is back. Underneath, in small white writing, it says, “No Matter What”. Because I know that she is coming back. No matter what.
Little does, too, but the distance between them is still unsettling her. I don’t think it helped that I didn’t see F last night. It seems mad for her to be missing that routine when it’s only been happening for two weeks, but she did. She hugely missed his impossibly soft blanket covering her, and the feeling of being safe. I sent something similar to F last night, and he replied, saying sending L blankets of safe love. Bless.
Today I am doing work in preparation for returning to the day job next week. The contrast between how Little is feeling, and how I need to feel, is stark. It’s unnerving. It is so hard to explain how it feels, but it is a little like being full of bubbles, except they never pop, just glide over each other, giving me a sense of being at sea within myself. It’s just unsettling.
I’m reading a book at the moment, called ‘Her’ by Harriet Lane. It’s very good, actually – but there is a part where her character quotes another quote. This quote is anonymous, and from a 18th century suicide note. It simply reads, all this buttoning and unbuttoning… and that’s what my life feels like at the moment. Buttoning up to be an adult, purposefully unbuttoning in therapy. Being buttoned up by the people around me, but being purposefully unbuttoned by them sometimes, too. The repetition, the waves, the being at sea within myself… I think today I’m just feeling rather seasick.