Pinterest

Pinterest.

I have become addicted. I used it a little bit before we had Cordelia but it was a few months after we lost her (gosh that sounds like we left her at the park or something) that I started to use the Internet and sites like Pinterest again. I can spend hours in the evening on it now.

And I mean hours. Entire evenings can disappear into a 'pinning' frenzy.

I have had several obsessions in the wake of Cordelia's death; cleaning, organising, making home school supplies for W to name a few. Did I mention cleaning? All of these obsessions have been aided by my addiction to Pinterest.

There are just so many ideas out there. These perfect images that I idealise, the perfect linen cupboard where all your towels and bedding are there beautifully folded and stacked, the pantry where you can actually see all the food supplies without having to empty half of it to see the back row, the child looking so happy doing 'letter of the week' activities for hours on end. I have realised now (after many sweaty panic filled hours and sleepless nights) that these pictures are just pictures. To not punish myself for my house not looking that perfect, to not feel disappointed that the activity that I printed, laminated and lovingly cut and glued/velcro'd or stuck magnets to that took 2 hours to make only caught W's attention long enough to glance at it on her way to the computer to ask for more cartoons please. *Sigh*. The women who's house these perfect images and perfect kids belong to are not like me, they are not grieving for a lost baby.

They are normal.

I am not.

Not Anymore.

I know why I have these bouts of obsessive behaviour but it doesn't stop me from jumping right in. I don't have them as much as I used to in the beginning. They usually don't actually make me feel better anyway. While I am trying to make my linen cupboard look perfect I know it never will be that perfect or that it would look good but only for 5 minutes. I would still feel defeated, stressed that I would never achieve perfection in a world where perfection no longer exists. Doing these things however gave me something else to focus on when I needed to. A temporary diversion.

At least I wasn't hitting the wine bottles right?

Usually I  realise that things were getting a little out of control. Like when I can't sleep at night because I am worrying about not being able to get something that I think I desperately need but in reality I don't need at all. It won't fix anything. It won't change how I am feeling, it won't bring Cordelia back or take this pain away, but in those obsessive moments I think they will-somehow. If I can make everything perfect then everything will be perfect. Right? Crazy I know. I know that-now.

There is no magic cure for grief, no escape. No way to avoid it. It must be dealt with. It is hard work though. Confusing. I am never really sure if I am doing it 'right'.

Despite what I have written, I really feel Pinterest has been a good thing for me and my grief. There is even stuff on there relating to grief and baby loss too. I was surprised. It's not just fluffy stuff.

Using Pinterest gives me hope that one day I will feel up to creating some of the projects I have pinned, that I will travel to some of the destinations I have drooled over. Cook some of the recipes and make some of those delicious cocktails in my drinks board. Surely it must be a good thing that I feel that one day I will do these things. That I want to do these things, nice things. One day. That I do see some kind of future for me and my family.

I am not pressuring myself like I did before to do and make everything NOW. There is no rush. I know my house will never be picture perfect. I don't think I want that anyway. Life, I know is not perfect. I have learnt that lesson the hardest way possible.

For now, my pins are sitting there waiting for me when I am good and ready.

picture courtesy of jeffbullas.com