It’s been a strange three or four weeks for me, both in terms of some major high points but also interspersed with waves of melancholy too. I know these two are constants within our lives but I feel like the extremes have been off the scales in both directions.
I mean it’s not every day you realise after only six months of running your new company that you have managed to get hold of two bestselling authors and one of the most respected editors in the business. It’s not every day you find out that baby is following all the curves baby should be and seems healthy and ready for October. It’s not every day you have a good chat with your sister and find out your sister, brother-in-law and niece and nephew are indeed moving to Sweden soon (late September, early October)! It’s not every day you get such wonderful people at your company as
, as in-house editor and graphic artist respectively.
So what’s with the long face then? Well it’s the whole, I’m working my arse off, so as to dwell less on the fact my brother-in-law was murdered, it’s the fact that I feel I am so responsible for Maddoc’s care just now, with Etina unable to go through life normally. It’s watching how this whole murder, trial, appeals court is affecting her and knowing there is only so much I can do. It’s having friends around going through their own stuff and me feeling like I’m just not there for them at all, yet I read the blogs and listen to them on the phone, it’s just I’m disjointed.
Work has kept me going and been my own personal therapy and even though things have tried to get in the way of that I have stood firm because that’s all I’ve got just now. That and my family. Don’t think you can take away my therapy, it’s not going to happen. I’m going to be this way for a few months and I make no excuses for it. None.
It was my grandmother’s birthday on Wednesday. She would have been 75. She died at 49, when I was 12. She was actually my mother until then, as she didn’t allow my mother full motherhood of me. My mother was too young. My grandmother was wise. The more I hear about my grandmother, the more I know we would have had a problematic relationship now. But she died when I was 12 and I took it hard, hard for many years. It was then I lost my belief in god (and I never went back). I put my grandmother on a pedestal and I still do, knowing I shouldn’t. It’s my prerogative be it wrong or right – challenge it, you’ll not change it.
I have my therapy now, I have Morrigan and I have Gilgamesh – I have a goddess and a half-god. With them I am strong. With them I can carry on. I need to carry on. Carry on.