I feel weary in my bones. The last 7 days have been incredibly emotionally intense. I finally saw folks in the chronic pain clinic and it was a very positive appointment. I am on the road to finding the right specialists within the NHS for my particular issues. They are putting in a letter that cannabis is the most appropriate medication for me and this will allow me to pursue getting a prescription through the NHS. This is going to be incredibly helpful because I will be able to stop smoking and go back to capsules. This is great news.

The thing about living in the UK is that everything moves slowly. Getting good news means that in a few months or a year I might see an impact on my life being different. The speed is hard to live with at times. It’s like how Noah’s estate isn’t fully settled because the rules here have hundreds of years of precedent and they are picky about paperwork. It’s nearly done but it isn’t done yet.

Both of these things being in limbo for so long is feeling hard on my body. I feel tired and worn down from being anxious. I was on the chronic pain waiting list for about 5 years. The NHS is very slow but it gets to people. Middle child had their adenoidectomy after being on that waiting list for years. Recovery is a process. They are excited about being able to breathe. Eldest Child hit the top of the gender affirming care list a few weeks ago. They called to tell him that seeing him down in Glasgow in the clinic that used to do care for minors is pointless. He will switch to our local NHS waiting list at 18 and he will probably be at the top at that juncture. Local will be easier for a lot of reasons.

Living here requires learning a kind of patience that feels unreal in some moments. My American nervous system is not trained for this much freezing and waiting. I learned long ago to act, to fight, to do anything to make things change. Here that’s not a good approach. Here, being messy and active slows stuff down. It’s hard to integrate this knowledge in my body.

I’ve talked to my solicitor and a lot of doctors this week. Every single one has emphatically told me that I am managing freakishly well and they are impressed that I am keeping everything together. I think they aren’t seeing all the balls I drop. It was nice, in a way, that the receptionist at the dentist was very kind about saying she can understand why stuff is hard because Noah used to do so much to keep us all on track. She could see that just from us moving through the reception area for appointments.

I feel less competent than I used to. Noah isn’t here to patch over the cracks of my mistakes. I make so many mistakes.

I am really struggling with all the ways I feel bad and too much and sad. My emotions feel too big to share with anyone else. I don’t want to drown people. Noah wanted all of me. He could handle it. I don’t feel like it is ethical to share very much with people now. Tiny drips and no more. I am feeling like a tsunami of pain and if I let it impact anyone else there will be consequences.

There are always consequences for being me.

How funny. I can tell that my face is scrunching up when I cry just like my son’s does.

There is no doubt in my mind that if I didn’t have the kids I would be dead now. Noah promised me that he would let me die first so I didn’t have to be alone. I am alone in my brain now in a way I haven’t been since I was in my teens. By my early 20’s I had people around me who were opting in at full speed. I think there are people in my life now who would say they want to opt in to the fullness of my brain and I am not able to trust them. I have been left too many times. I’m afraid to need anyone. Everyone goes away. I’m not fully alone. I spend time with my Jenny. I have made some really nice friends here and they care about me a lot. They show up. My boyfriend is a great guy. And still there is so much of me that I could only share with Noah. I miss Noah. I miss being good enough even when I sucked.

I hate that I feel no resilience. A very soft amount of correction feels like evidence that I don’t deserve to be alive or have relationships. I can’t react in a proportionate way and I hate this. I hate feeling like even the smallest amount of frown invalidates me existing. This is what Noah gave me. I annoyed the shit out of him. He corrected me harshly and I could handle that because I knew that nothing I ever did would be bad enough for him to leave me. Back I go into feeling like I don’t belong anywhere or to anyone. Being necessary for the kids is different.

It’s good! Don’t get me wrong. I am really grateful that I have positive, uplifting experiences with the kids every day. We get along. We are well suited to each other. We have a peaceful, loving coexistence. This feels possible mostly because I keep most of me in a box off-stage.

I am not sure I will ever feel seen again. I miss Noah. I miss the way he clutched me like I was his security object. I miss feeling like I was the reason someone felt whole. Instead I am back to being someone who makes people feel awkward and uncomfortable. I don’t like being me. I want to be someone who was born good enough to love. I have to work like a dog around the clock to earn my right to keep breathing.

I am really tired. I slept ok last night. This is exhaustion at the soul level. It is so hard going on without Noah. He needed me. He needed me so much that all by himself he justified my existence. Without him I feel like a burden the world doesn’t need. I know that my kids need me for a while longer, but I am afraid of their complete independence. I am afraid that I will see all the signs that I trained them to not need me as reasons I should go. The point of being a mother is to raise people who will be fine without you. If you don’t do that, you haven’t been a good mother. You can’t train apprentice adults to be dependent. They need to be able to survive my death.

I am struggling right now. I will get through it. I always do. Right now it hurts.