Has the bubble burst?

Back home in Chester after what has been a really suprisingly good Christmas and new year. I've had real respite and actual fun, better sleep and no panic attacks.  It's important to say that, and internalise it, be thankful for it.

However, last night I slept terribly and when I did sleep had awful dreams, the worst of which involving Mark living with us having attempted but survived. He was showing me his scar from his attempt.  I woke this morning with the now familiar racing heart and wobbly legs. I've been very tearful. I think perhaps the numbness I've felt over the past ten days was self protection, (don't feel anything because that way you'll survive it.) Well it worked for the holidays but clearly the thought of returning to life alone without help has re-triggered my anxiety.

I went to the church yard today to leave fresh flowers for Bertie, and had flashbacks of walking the path with Marks ashes. I thought those were over. I'm not going to stop visiting Bertie so I will have to find a way to deal with those.  Goodness knows how. That's one for my therapist. 

My dad, my hero, drove us back and has helped me put the Christmas decorations away in the loft. I'm dreading him leaving tomorrow. I know I can do this, I just don't want to. 

At least the cat is happy we are home.