Grief - one year on

When I lost my Grandad around this time last year, I didn't think I would ever be able to talk about it without dissolving into tears.  Grief is a raw, savage emotion that rips you apart and then stomps on all the broken pieces - at the time you think you will never get through the next moment let alone the next year.

I still cannot talk to my family in great depth about him because their grief on top of mine is still too much to bear but I can sit and remember the good times, think of him fondly and miss him with a smile in my heart.  The human spirit is capable of such great things, we (collectively) survive great hardship and bear huge burdens all in the day-to-day run of life.

We adapt ourselves, adjust our life to deal with the hole within it and learn to live on and over time, that great healer, it no longer hurts as much as it did.  The loss is still great and the sorrow is still felt but the hurt goes away.  Perhaps we adapt to ensure that we don't feel the hurt anymore, a inbuilt protection mechanism of sorts.  It works well, it takes time for it to settle into place, but it works well. 

This new years I hope to be able to raise a glass to my Grandad and wish him well.  There might be a tear at my sadness in not being able to be with him but the pain of loss is gone and for that I am truly grateful. 

The weight of Christmas

Tis the season and all that.  But the scary fact is that the average weight gain over the Christmas period is half a stone what with all the turkey and the trimmings and the puds and the chocolates and the alcohol and that's just on the big day, let alone all the left over hoovering that has to take place because after all, let's not waste good food.

I myself have gained a modest 3 pounds however the immense weight gain of the entire last year precedes the modest 3 and over all the numbers are not looking too good.  In this season of plenty, perhaps the focus should have been on plenty of greens and fresh air rather than death by raisin.  I am by no means a harmless bystander in this weighty festival - there was the cake and the pud and the mince pies and the fudge and the sausage rolls all lovingly hand made and now hanging out in the kitchen saying eat me, go on, I dare you.  There is only so much richness one delicately balanced digestive system can handle.  So there will be lots of chopping and wrapping and freezing and please don't be dismayed in several months time when you pop round for a cuppa and are faced with a slice of Christmas cake.

I admire those of iron will who stick to their calorie controlled way of life throughout the year and are out pounding the streets in their Lycra holier than thou outfits on Boxing Day but it seems I just don't have that constitution.  Now, if you need someone to last through a marathon Buffy session surviving on just junk food and pop, I'm your gal.  I guess this is an indication to the uniqueness of how the human brain is wired, some of us can just say no and others have to go swim in the sea of grease - figuratively - unless of course that actually does float your boat and then I'm first in line to say ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww. 

The older I get the more I come to realise that you are what you are and no amount of wishing or hoping is ever going to change that.  I will always fall on the curvier side and my hair will never convincingly hold a curl but I can work with what I have and attempt to do a little bit of zen gardening on the inside, looking after my internals in the hope they will look after me.  Now, where did I put that StairMaster??

The Aftermath

The end of Christmas for another year leads us to the aftermath of the festive season.  I hear the January sales (which began 26th December!) have been insane this year with huge amounts of money being spent at very early hours of the morning.  I can't imagine anything worse.  After spending time with my family enjoying good food, good company and good presents I just don't want to go a-jostling with the masses.  Plus my purse strings are most definitely closed...for a good long while.

The aftermath in the grasshopper bubble involves finding homes for the new additions as well as chomping our way through a mountain of raisin-related food.  The miniature grasshopper's room looks like a whirlwind ran through Santa's workshop - an excellent opportunity for a 'tidy/throw away' of tat.  Why is it that the miniatures love the tat so much?  Why is it that we human beans love the hoarding?  It seems that we just enjoy building little piles around us, our ever important stuff that gets continually added to.  I will never understand how people manage to live in show-home styley rooms where everything is minimalist and bland and has no personality.  It's important to have that slinky in the hall under the mirror, and those miniature guns on the window sill, the helicopter firing range on top of the computer and a bag with skateboards, chocolate and gloves in the kitchen.  This is real living in the aftermath.

Waistline aftermath is of course a very crucial question, but one that we don't need to address until the New Year because after all - there is the raisin-related mound that needs to be dealt with.  I dread to think what's going to be the end result but with a new series of Biggest Loser to look forward to and a non-existent food budget until I find a job plus that free gym - the great outdoors - I am only slightly panicked.  As always we say this year is the year but who knows - maybe this year really will be the year?  It's a very positive, gently glowing aftermath so maybe that's the key.