LIVING WITH THE FERRYMAN

It has been some time since I last posted on this blog. The truth is that I have slipped and stumbled and lost my way. It happens !! I stopped juicing and obsessing about my diet when I went on my summer holidays, and I suppose perhaps I did need a break from it. But things have gone from bad to worse, to unspeakable and I need to get a grip. It was my birthday last week and I am trying to make a new start. And it's back to basics and baby steps for me. So I'll be blogging about my experience from a personal level now. I stopped blogging because things were difficult and I couldn't write about them because my daughter was reading my blog, and consequently I censored myself. Hopefully she is now out of the habit of reading it. If not, Rosie, perhaps you should stop reading now before my black, black soul is revealed. I'm not joking ! I can't pull my punches because quite frankly I just don't have the energy.








This morning I have come to realise that I haven't really accepted the finality and reality of my situation, and what the situation really represents for me. I have been avoiding truly seeing and accepting things as they are. The Grim Reaper has come to live with me and my family. My visitor is the embodiment of the Crypt Keeper, a cadaverous spectre, and he occupies most of the house.







I live in a large house with many rooms. You would think it would swallow him up and hide him, but he is ever present, constantly moving around and making full use of the space. I have tried to contain him, but that seems impossible. I dedicated half the downstairs space in my home to him, but he will not stay in his space. He fully occupies the whole downstairs and garden and scares me out of my wits,and makes me jump out of my skin by appearing when I least expect him and where I least expect him. He is stealthy and silent . I've threatened to put bells on his shoes, but he laughs. He creeps up the stairs and haunts the intimate parts of my home. He frequents the house bathroom and landing. He peeks into my bedroom if he can't find me in the rest of the house. Not content to simply occupy the space, he changes my environment. He turns up the thermostat when I'm not looking and creates a hot house that stifles me. A hells kitchen in a brick box. I feel boxed in. He fills my house with the sound of death and destruction and disaster. A news bulletin at high volume spooling over and over and over. He has taken my home, my husband, my daughters father, and , I fear, my life. Isn't that what death does ? Take everything you hold dear and everything you don't - indiscriminately.







My life with the Crypt Keeper started about 4 months ago. He is unable to care for himself and is occupying more and more territory in my life. He will not be contained. I have to accept that for better or worse he is with me to the end. It is a pseudo marriage. He keeps me company whenever I am home. I can go out for distraction, but twist and turn as I might, he will always be there on my return. I spend more time with him than with anyone else on the planet. Far more time than with my husband. Far more time than with my daughter, though as she is nearing 16 I expect her to stretch her wings and spend less time with me as she prepares to fly the nest. Thankfully, her life is opening out. My place is here with the cadaverous embodiment of death.







I think that life can be quite spooky. I have spent 3 years fighting for my life, fighting for my life . But Death has tired of my contortions and evasions and has come to live with me up close and personal , and he wears my father- in- law's face. He is not to be ignored and he's not to be avoided. I have not been juicing as diligently as I should. In fact I stopped. Our family summer holiday always breaks my habit and it's so laborious and time consuming that I find it hard to get back into my health-creating routine when we get back home. Since November, when my visitor arrived, my health creating efforts have deteriorated further. I drink alcohol. I eat sweet things , some made with fruit, others made with sugar. I eat processed foods. I skip breakfast and lunch, and I eat processed foods . There is plenty of salt in my diet, and a lack of raw vegetables. It's comfort I seek, but it eludes me . I'm not an idiot and I know that my food choices and the stressed way I'm reacting to this situation will seal my doom. I am coming back to my blog in an effort to try to resume the fight if it's not too late.