To You It May Seem Stupid
Sometimes it can be the smallest, most seemingly insignificant things that can trigger a person. Likewise it can be the tiny acts that you make as a supporter of a sufferer of depression that can make all the difference; that can turn a bad day into something survivable. This weekend I am struggling. I did everything I can to prepare for it as I knew this weekend would be hard. It’s been a year to the day since my dad collapsed and never woke up again. I have tried to do all the things I know will help me cope. All the little things I would suggest to someone who was facing a hurdle like this. Spending time with friends and family in the safe space of my home has been a help. We’ve laughed, I’ve cooked, I’ve spent time doing daft little acts to make others smile, but that aching, gnawing is just devouring me. It feels like my heart has turned into heavy, weighted stone, and is dragging me backwards into the dark. I know that this is part of grief, aided and abetted by depression having a field day, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Don’t Under-Estimate the Importance of the Little Things
It’s the little things that are both helping me and flooring me this weekend. The simple act of my sister sending a photo collage she’d printed of my dad was beautiful. Standing in the bathroom of my mother’s home and seeing that a year on and my dad’s razor still sits on the bathroom shelf, broke my heart. As I stood there, I picked up the can of body-spray of his that was also still there. Just holding it close to my nose and for a moment it conjured up a huge sense of him. The scent I was so used to smelling, bringing back a flood of memories. Him and mum getting ready to go out for an evening with friends. My son proudly announcing he was clean after a sleepover at his grandparents, when in actuality all he’d done was liberally sprayed himself with his granddad’s Lynx.
So many of what some people would see as small, insignificant things. Nothing worthy of getting upset over. Yet I have been so low that I have struggled to keep from crying since I woke this morning.
The Flip Side
There is also the flip side. The little things that have made it okay. Spending half an hour snuggled in bed with Alex and Little ‘Un watching ‘ Scooby-Doo: Where Are You?’ this morning helped more than I think he realised. Hugs from those I love. Being given the space to be quiet if I needed it. A cup of tea just placed by my side without a word.
I guess the point I’m trying to make is whether someone is grieving or battling their own black dog (or like me are trying to deal with both) then the little things matter. The little acts of kindness that can be made, even if it’s just a phone call or a text can make a huge difference. These things help to counterbalance all the little things that can sneak up on someone and knock them to the floor. After all what may seem like nothing to you, could be the thing that makes someone else’s heart break into pieces.
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