There’s a question I keep coming back to.

I don’t always say it out loud.

But it’s there, underneath everything.

How long does this last?


When Mark died, everything changed.

Not just how I felt.

Everything.

Who I was.
What my life looked like.
What I thought my future was going to be.

It all just… stopped.


But the truth is, things had already started to change before that.

There was trauma before Mark died.

And then there was more after.

Sexual assaults that sit either side of that loss.

Like everything became split into before, during, and after.

And none of it ever really settled.


People talk about grief like it’s something you move through.

Like it has stages.
Like you get to the end of it.

That hasn’t been my experience.


It’s been 7 years this year.

Seven.

And I’m still here.

Still not working.
Still largely housebound.
Still trying to manage things that used to feel easy.


Life hasn’t moved on.

It’s just… changed shape.

Smaller. Quieter. Harder.


People I used to speak to every day aren’t there anymore.

Work life just disappeared.

That whole part of me, gone.

My world now is very small.

Phone calls from two people.

That’s about it.


Day to day isn’t what people think it is.

It’s not “healing”.
It’s not “moving forward”.

It’s managing symptoms.

It’s trying to sleep.
Trying to focus.
Trying to regulate emotions that don’t always make sense.

It’s dealing with a body and mind that don’t feel steady.


There are diagnoses that try to explain it.

cPTSD.
Bipolar Disorder.
And others that seem to have come from everything that has happened.

But labels don’t really capture what it feels like to live it.


Some days I can do a bit more.

Some days I can’t.

And there doesn’t always seem to be a reason why.


There’s also a version of me that people remember.

Capable.
Working.
Functioning.
Social.

I don’t recognise her anymore.


And that’s another layer of grief people don’t talk about.

Not just grieving Mark.

Grieving the life I had.
The person I was.
The life that didn’t happen.


Time is supposed to fix things.

That’s what people say.

That it gets easier.

That things settle.

But what if they don’t?


What if this is just… how it is now?


That’s the question I struggle with the most.

Not just what happened.

But what happens next.


How long does this last?


Because no one really answers that.


And maybe the answer is not a timeline.

Maybe it’s something else.

Maybe it’s learning how to exist alongside it.

Even when it’s hard.
Even when it doesn’t feel like progress.

Even when life looks nothing like it used to.


I don’t have a neat ending for this.

I don’t have a resolution.

I’m still in it.


But if this is something you recognise, even a little bit,

you’re not the only one asking that question. Dx