hand me down

sometimes, even though you know you really need to be strong and do what you have to do, all you want to do is let rip all your anger and frustration and just scream and cry and punch the pillows and walls and kick things and ruin your one good knife by viciously mincing your ginger to tiny shreds. you don’t want to keep whining to people that you’re down, that you feel you’ve been kicked in the gut. you know you can get up again because you’re strong and because, given time, this too shall pass. you don’t want anyone to worry, you don’t want anyone to think, oh god, there she goes again, on about the same old same old, and you know that you’ll be ok, so let’s just skip the bit where we inflict the misery on others as well.

you know all that but sometimes, everything that you don’t want to hear comes in a barrage and it’s harder to remember what you ought to do, and you throw yourself on your bed and hug the duvet and cry angry salty choked-up tears.

then you realise it’s past 9pm and you get up and you try to do the washing up and household chores and the job application you’ve been meaning to do all week, or at least take a crack at it. because if you don’t keep moving and lounge around feeling sorry for yourself it will only get worse. and you force yourself to ignore the emotions bubbling over, you put a cork firmly in it, you pick up one heavy leaden foot and put it in front of the other. harsh. but real.

but there’s no time to grieve
we just pack up our things and move on
and move on