Grief Cleaning

In the past twenty hours or so, Herself has mopped the floor and steam cleaned the carpets downstairs; washed all the dog beds and blankets and scrubbed the birdcage; cleaned two bathrooms including using the pumice stone on all the hard water marks, and unclogged a bathroom sink drain.  She's gone to the grocery store and organized the pantry and tidied the refrigerator, and taken care of more laundry and used the elliptical trainer, too.  She might vacuum the stairs next.

This is Grief Cleaning.

So many transitions - the Unmooring, the losses of three well-loved aged pets, and several changes of the past year have finally caught up with her.  She must stay busy, or she will cry. And crying is not acceptable. Life goes on, and she must go on.

Some days it is harder than others. This evening is especially tricky, as she is alone. She feels invisible.  She desperately wants her Important People near her, and yet they all have their own lives to lead, activities in which she has no part. She tries not to impinge, tries not to need.  She fears that she will drive them away by needing, by wanting them to reach out to her instead of her having to reach out to them.  She is angry with herself for needing. She should be able to entertain herself -- she has her own hobbies and activities she could do. None of them interest her at the moment, though.

And so, she cleans.

She wishes that somehow, the Universe would hear her silent howl of grief, and come to her aid.

Perhaps, though, she should come to her own aid.

When she figures out how, at least she'll be able to do so in a clean house.