Head in the clouds

There’s a scene at the start of the first Mary Poppins film where she’s sitting on a cloud, powdering her nose, waiting I assume for her next call to help a family in need.  That’s me. Not the face powdering part – I prefer the natural look – or the helping the family in need.  But sitting very firmly and happily on a cloud.

It may well be a cloud of denial, of not wanting to, or being able to, face the reality of what’s happened, but on this cloud the sky is blue, above my head all seems bright and sunny, and I feel buoyant, happy.  Sometimes I look over the edge of the fluffy stuff and see a world that’s grey and rainy and sad.  Why would I want to go down there?

The practical side of my brain tells me that some days I’ll have to, and who knows what will be the catalyst.  Sometimes I just wake up in the morning with feet of lead and a spirit to match. On those days my brain seems foggy, I can’t concentrate on anything, I walk slowly and I have a heavy, ball-shaped sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.  Everything is such an effort, and I can see clearly the horrible consequences of my loss.  Other days I’m up with the cirrus, feeling bright and breezy. 

Each up or down lasts a few days. Who knows when and why it’ll change.  But one thing I do know is that being on that cloud is very much more preferable to being on the ground.

That view does present me with a dilemma though, when friends, family, colleagues or acquaintances try to sympathise/empathise/cheer me up.  If I’m on my cloud, believe me I’m cheerier that anyone in the wide world and I most definitely don’t want to be dragged down among the sad people!  So how to react when I realise that people, meaning only the best, are inadvertently knocking me off my cloud?  Take this example.

Just before Christmas I was shopping in one of the malls near my home. Everything was sparkly.  The shops were full of tinsel and sequins.  I’d just bought a rather fetching Chanel-style cardigan with a scattering of crystals across the shoulders and was feeling pretty pleased with myself.  I’d also completed two emotionally draining tasks that I’d been dreading doing, and so I decided to treat myself to an extremely naughty slice of gooey cake.  Me and my cloud were so high I was on waving terms with high-flying aircraft.

On the way into the tearoom, I met a woman that I know but not very well and that I hadn’t seen since my husband died.  ‘Oh’ she said coming over to me, ‘I was so very sorry to hear about your husband.  That was just terrible.’

‘Yes,’ I said in a voice that sounded so chipper I could have been a temporary stand in for the laughing policeman at Blackpool Pleasure Beach. ‘Terrible.’

She looked confused.  I felt panicked.  While she continued empathising, telling me about a really terrible bereavement that she’d suffered a few years before and how she’d found it difficult to deal with the circus that is Christmas (all very well meant and all exactly what you WOULD say to someone in my position), all I could think was ‘My cloud!  Please don’t pull me off my cloud!’

Too late. To say I landed back to earth with a bump would be an understatement. I was down, grey, sad and on the verge of tears. We spoke a little longer in a much more appropriate tone about how awful it all is and shared a few more sad thoughts and then she went off and left me to ponder the cake cabinet with infinitely less enthusiasm.  

It wasn’t her fault, but it highlights the problem – how to stop people who want to support and help pulling you off your cloud?  Or maybe that isn’t the problem at all, maybe it’s the cloud that’s the problem and maybe it’s working through the rain and the grey and the sadness that one day means the sun comes out more often until it’s a permanent fixture.  I guess only time will answer that one.

MY LOVELY PLACE FOR JANUARY…so far

The ballet!  My youngest daughter bought me tickets to see The Nutcracker at the Coliseum in London as my Christmas gift.  She was supposed to come with me but was ill which was such rotten luck.  I went with a friend instead and we witnessed a truly beautiful ballet in stunning surroundings.  I’d not been at the Coliseum before, and to be honest just sitting having a pre-performance drink in its glorious balcony lounges would have been treat enough.  Hopefully later in the year, my daughter and I will find another ballet to enjoy there together.