Brushing your teeth

I don't know how I feel right now, in early February 2017.

A thought spilled over me while I was brushing my teeth before bed that I started the year with no parents. The two people who invested so much time, effort and love into me are gone. The two people who I adored, and whose advice I sought daily are no longer present. The two people who made me, and who wanted so much for me to succeed, are now just a series of memories.

I have lost my two biggest supporters. I looked in the mirror, toothbrush in hand, and thought: what on earth do I do now?

The person looking back at me is someone who I haven't seen before. Looking tired, drawn, lethargic. Shoulders sagging and slouched. What were those extra lines on the face? Messy features, unshaven, unkempt hair. A shipwreck of a person. The reflection matched how I felt; utterly dreadful.

Yet, an inner voice keeps telling me that I can do something about my appearance. That inner voice tells me I can get a good haircut and I can have a nice shave. The words inside my head press me to think that I can also do the littlest tasks to make me feel better. I can put fresh sheets on my bed and I can make myself smell nice. I can get out of bed and have a shower and at least begin the day; whatever a "day" is right now. I can set aside time for breakfast, lunch and dinner even though I'm hardly hungry; the inner voice reminds me that the world keeps turning and so to have some routine might be a start in tiptoeing back into the real world.

The rudimentary nature of brushing my teeth twice daily is the core of my routine. I have been able to do that, so therefore I believe I can start to do other things. As wishy-washy as I feel, this is my life right now.

I can do nothing about the reality that Dad died in December from cancer. I can do nothing about the reality that Mum died seven years ago from cancer. Facing up to this reality is not exactly something I want to do right now. It is a horror film that I do not wish to be a part of, but yet regretfully I am the star of the show. I was at the front of the funeral procession on the 28th December, the final scenes of a desperately sad film. Followed by a wake with people telling you how good Dad "was"; putting him in the past. It wasn't quite my idea of Christmas.

Feeling totally confused by what has happened; by focusing on my appearance and focusing on brushing my teeth, then at least I have a purpose. Somewhere in the depths of my psyche, I have an inner voice which is advising me to do this. The comforting thought is that this calming and soothing inner voice is most definitely the voice of my parents.