I think you know that I’m falling apart. I know you have sensed it, and so many in our lovely community have done their level best to hold me up in the past three months. I am so grateful.
But the past three months have all but destroyed me and I am crumbling. I cry when no-one is looking because I know those who have been able to physically hold my hand through the most significant trauma of my life, must be awfully fed up with my inability to accept what has happened within my wider family and cannot fathom why I am unable to see that it was, to all their minds, inevitable: so I am trying to stop weeping at the drop of a hat so not to utterly bore their socks off, but sometimes, standing at the sink, or alone in the shower, the tears come anyway.
The truth is that I’m not coping. Not emotionally, physically or financially and I can’t keep pretending because it impacts on everyone: from my family here in the house, to all those visiting BrocanteHome in search of inspiration, when I am trying to give from an empty well.
So following medical advice, I am going to take a week or two off. To allow myself time to come to terms with the fact that it is possible I will never see my beloved Dad again. To deal with what feels like a heartbreak like no other. To start eating properly. To stop the nose bleed that has been seeping for a week. To fully engage with counselling so that the trauma I chose to ignore can be wholly examined. And to decide what to do here at BrocanteHome now that my financial circumstances are on the verge of substantial change and the site in its current form is simply no longer viable.
I will be back as soon as I can. I promise.