Results day on Thursday and I was relieved that my students did alright, possibly not the best set of results ever but nothing too surprising, most doing as predicted and a few exceeding expectations. I found the day incredibly hard. I hadn't realised how much I would miss Kev's support and reassurance in the run up to the day. It was horrible to come back to an empty house, nobody to talk to about it. It was made worse by the things colleagues say- "Make sure you celebrate this weekend!" " Time for a large glass of wine this evening..." etc. I felt that everyone was going home to partners, support, lives. Last year, Kev did have the wine chilling and a special meal planned, this year I went home and crawled into bed. There are just too many reminders of loss. I feel different to everyone else and hardly feel part of the human race anymore.
Something that shocked me on Thursday was that I was unable to feel much for the students who had done well. I could feel the emotions of sadness and distress for those who had done badly, but in the past I remember feeling genuine delight and joy with those who got excellent results, or when they were excited by having got into the university of their choice. This year, I felt pleased for them in my mind but I had no emotional response. I think it is because I have lost the capacity to feel emotions such as joy or happiness. Even when my own son got a first recently, I was relieved and pleased for him but I can't seem to access emotions such as happiness, joy, delight. I just can't feel them anymore.
I am not sure I want to go on living life being the sort of person who cannot feel happiness, not even on behalf of others. It is such an impoverished way of living. I know I face a very difficult few months ahead. Going back to work will be very hard; we had planned for me to give up this year and increase my part time work with the exam boards in order for us to enjoy a retirement together. Kev's birthday in August will be hard, then there is the anniversary of his death in September followed by my birthday. Kev died two weeks before my 50th birthday. Last year I couldn't look at my cards and presents without feeling sick and in the end I took almost every present to the charity shop and threw every card away except the one Kev had already written which is still in the drawer by my bed. This year I really don't want to celebrate my birthday.
Anyhow, I don't think I am going to post on this blog for a while. I feel it is hardly fair on my very small number of readers to hear me whinge all the time and this is likely to get worse over the next few months!