I spoke to Sands yesterday.  After drafting The day the whole world went away I felt hollowed.  I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing and needed some reassurance or a chance to sound out my motivations and actions before going further.

I found a tranquil place only to find its tranquility nullified phone signals and wifi.  I then started to hunt for an empty meeting room suitable for a private call.  After leaving a message I waited.

When the return call came two hours later I had a meeting so we agreed to a callback half an hour later.

Two hours later the call came and all the meeting rooms were full so I just plonked myself down in the tea point amongst the lunch crowd.

I began to talk and Sands listened and reflected, reassuring where necessary and weathering the silences.

I noticed a few people throw worried looks in my direction when my characteristic bluntness caught their ear but I rambled on regardless

We both tried to end the conversation at a sensible point but each time I thought I was coming to an end there was more.

The guilt, the expectations, the sheer number of things happening all at once.  Talking it through it became obvious it would have had an effect on me.  How could it not?  The activities and press coverage and soap story lines around Babyloss Awareness Month, the Wave of Light, filling in the independent review of maternity services and going to attend the special session for bereaved parents, applying to become a befriender, the doubt about whether it was right for me, for now, starting this blog and having the compulsive need to write, write, write to the exclusion of everything, the distractions that used to bring me joy leaving me unmoved, the overwhelming sense of an unnamed feeling of  sadness and barbed ,wired anger, the desire to finally abandon analysis and just feel the rawness rather than seeking to understand it but at the same time terrified of what may happen if I finally do let go…

Oh, that’s why I’ve been feeling like crap.

It helps to talk.  Really.

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