It is 21 months since Dr P died, and apart from the emotional toll, there have been many things to cope with, and to do or get done. Dr P's belongings have been sorted out, the house has been reorganised to some extent, and the rising damp problem has been remedied, at considerable expense. The legal issues concerning where I was to live were resolved by settlement, and the house is now mine, to live in, to repair, to maintain as I see fit and as circumstances permit. Life has slowly begun to have some degree of normality.
But I find little things throw me, and provoke a disproportionate reaction. They don't seem so little, and I have been feeling stressed and weepy, despite chiding myself. This 'little' thing is that I have conscientiously, although not gladly, forwarded all mail to the stepdaughters which has arrived here in the 21 months since his death. I have sent it on to their mother. The mail still arriving is not very important. But this week, suddenly, one way or another, I have had enough. They have had ample time to have arranged for all their mail to be sent elsewhere.
I find myself upset, and resentful that I still feel so upset and stressed by what, rationally viewed in the context of the history of the relationship, is a small thing. I cared for their father, and gave them hospitality, but there has never been one word or gesture of appreciation towards me - and nor will there ever be.
What to do? Well, I could write to their mother to inform her that no more mail will be forwarded. I could put it all in the bin with no further notice. Or I could have it returned to Sender.
I decided to return it all to Sender.
Their mail is not my problem.
This post will, I hope, help me to put such mental rubbish and negativity into the rubbish bin, and have it all incinerated. So that I no longer feel like bursting into tears at such provocations.
Get over it, ok? Finished, kaput, done and dusted, to coin a phrase, to put it in a nutshell, as they say in the classics.