Home alone

I'm scared. But probably not of what you think.

Nedda has finally been admitted to her new home, a nursing home where she will be in better hands than mine. Although I'm a bit sad that we had come to this, I'm sure she'll be cared for by nurses and doctors who know exactly what she needs.

Now I'm back in control of my own time. I can live this half-life of mine according to my own rhythm. I just need to understand what's my rhythm, because I lived so many years following my mum's needs that I really don't know what I need. 

But, no... this is not what I'm scared of.

I'm in a house that from now on will have only me and my cats as inhabitants. The silence will not be broken and I'll be busy downsizing, giving away (or selling, hopefully) all the stuff I don't use - from kitchenware to clothes, from shoes to knick-knacks.

And no, I'm not at all scared to stay home alone. I'm fine with being on my own, indeed I'm looking forward to it. 

I feel lonely only when I think that Alberto is not with me (alas... I think about it all the time).

I'll have time, now, to go back to work. 

And that's what I'm scared of!

Provided that I will not be self-employed anymore (I'm done with that!) there are several things that scares me.

First of all my abilities as DTP or graphic designer are at least 6 years old, which means I have been out of touch technologically and as far as today's demands are. I can't compete with younger people who can prepare graphics for multiple medias and platforms. I'm good just for printed materials.

And even if I consider myself very good in English (it's become my second language), I know I'm not fast enough for the kind of world we live in, not anymore. And I lost all contacts I had, so it will be difficult to find any job.

I'll try and find some jobs outside my expertise, of course. I'm ready to do any kind of job, from cleaning to dog-sitting,  but I'm afraid my body will not cope easily with it. At least not in winter, when I suffer daily from joints and neck pain. Also, after I had Covid, I feel fatigued every day all day long.

I will apply to have Italian "citizenship income", but I feel I'll be a parasite if I receive it. And before you say anything... I know I'm entitled to it, but feelings are not logical and I'll feel a parasite nonetheless.

But I cannot do it otherwise - I have to survive.

Bottom line is... being home alone is fine. Looking for a job is not.

My soul is leaking away

Nine years ago today a huge crack formed in the dam containing my soul.

Since then I'm loosing a bit of my soul every day.

Since then other small and big events deepened that crack, over and over.

The crack cannot be mended.

It will come a time when the crack in the dam will be too deep and wide to contain my soul and I will cease to exist.

I lost my "faith"

The title of this post is somehow misleading... but it would not if I wrote it in Italian!

The word "fede" (faith), in Italian indicates not only a religious commitment, or a loyalty to someone. It also indicates the wedding ring.

I have no religious "faith" to loose (I'm agnostic), but I had the wedding ring Alberto gave me when we married... and now I cannot find it anywhere!

I'm quite sure I lost it at home, but I searched in every corner of the house, to no avail.

I feel lost myself without it.

I feel that, without that ring at my finger, when I'll die I'll be incomplete.

Does it make any sense?

Edit: on the night between January 1st and 2nd I found my "faith", under a cupboard. I feel I found a little, but important, bit of myself.

RIP

I really need to rest in peace...

... at least for a while.

To sleep... To die...

I am very tired, mentally, so please accept my apologies for any mistake in this entry.

It's been almost a year since Nedda, my mum, had a stroke that rendere her unable to speak and to do a lot of other daily things (eating, going tonthe bathroom...) without help.

Another side effect of her stroke has been her sleeplessness - she sleeps only for less than one to three hours and then wakes up, stays awake for the same amount of time then sleep again, repeating the cycle all day and night, every single day.

Bottom line - it's been almost one year that I can't have a good eight-hours sleep! And since I am not capable of getting some rest for less than that amount of time, I am virtually awake all day (=24 hours) long!

I am no longer living my half a life. I am just dragging myself on, trying not to give in (or my mum will be cared for by no one else).

I feel like a battery out of juice, barely able to think or focus. I just can cook, clean the house, and wait for my mum next need.

The caregivers who had helped and are helping me with Nedda do not give me relief anymore, and even when they did it was just for a few hours every week.

There is some hope at the end of this (another one!) tunnel - my mum will be transferred to a nursing home. But this could happen in months, even years from now.

And I'm afraid I'll be an amoeba by then because I already lost any interest in finding a job, going to conventions and get-alongs, watching the new Star Trek or Doctor Who series, having plans and projects for the house and everything Alberto owned. These things have no appeal to me anymore, despite I often say the opposite to family and friends.

I feel more dead than alive, sensing that if I was truly dead I'd be better off. At least I'd sleep!

And I'll be with Alberto again!

Alberto: un altro compleanno mancato

Quest'anno avresti avuto caldo, molto caldo...

Ma preferirei averti accanto in carne ed ossa in questo mondo in fiamme che saperti sepolto nel gelo della morte.

Buon compleanno, amore mio.

14 giugno

To cut a very long story short... We got married on the day we first met.

Every day I miss Alberto more than the day before - I don't know hiw much more pain I'll be able to endure...