Wednesday 26th August 2026

Time 22:39 | Mood Mood: Tired?

okay, okay... I'll blog.

I'll have some weeks where I am fine and nothing interesting happens and everything seems managable. Other days, I'll find myself crying in a quiet, out-of-the-way bathroom at work hoping that no one else comes in and that my eyes aren't too red once I've had a moment to myself.
My cockatiel is fine, the invisible finite thread I have with him continues to slowly pass through my palm. I will be at work, doing something completely different, and then a tug of a horrible weight will pull on my chest and remind me that the time I have with him is limited. Will he be here for Christmas? Or next Christmas? Or his 24th birthday in May? It's a heavy weight I carry with me and I am learning just what it means to give grief a seat at the table, to acknowledge it instead of being fearful and panicky and wanting to run away when it pops up. Sometimes accepting grief is the hardest. I can intellectually understand it, that all things must die, that it will hurt when he goes, or when anyone I love goes, but grasping it on any other level is difficult. I love control. I love planning, organising, and understanding. I'm empathetic and understand and love so deeply that hurt like this is devastating. Even thinking about the fact that the day will come, it could be tomorrow, it could be next week, it could be in an hour, makes me cry. It's not an anxiety where there's a chance it won't happen; death is inevitable. He will die one day. I will see lone magpies and worry that they are a sign of his death, an artist we are working with was talking about Jean-Baptiste Greuze's Girl with a Dead Canary and thats when I had to go downstairs to sob in the bathroom. I think everything is an omen.

I guess I've just been feeling shit this past week or so and that's made me want to vent a bit. I am still seeing my counsellor every other week. I go to the gym three times a week. I'm great at work and am good at my job, I take pride in my work and feel incredibly fortunate to have the job I do. My counsellor has told me to think of my qualities that make me proud of myself, things that make me happy. What feelings I get when I do the things which make me happy.

I'll be okay. Even though during days like this, it feels like I won't be. It's just a very lonely and heavy thing I'm carrying. Maybe giving it a seat at the table would be easier for me in the long run. Embrace the tears. The grief. I cannot run away from it.