Put the statement “Look after yourself”. at the top of the list of things not to say to someone who has just had someone close to them die.

What does it mean anyway? Am I not looking after myself ? Sure, I would be first to acknowledge that I could be eating better, sleeping better, smiling more. I am coping and getting by. Looking after myself as best I can.

I first noticed my Mum saying ‘Look after yourself…’. I know, I know it’s well intended. I also wondered how I was supposed to take care of myself, I had two dogs to feed and a bin that needed regular putting out, no end things to look after ….

The refrain became a chorus, the message “look after yourself” became a tag line to many conversations. It came in person, in email and over the phone. It came not only from my mum, but my my siblings, from friends, from people I hardly knew. My psychologist suggested I be kind to myself, that I look after myself. Work colleagues and near strangers gave the same advice. Where do I even start? The responsibility was too great, and secretly I longed to be rescued. I needed a hero, having lost the one I had.

I was repeatedly advised to look after myself. Damn well intentioned advice but distressing nonetheless. It made me feel vague and hopeless. Did I look unkempt, sallow or unwell? Of course I wasn’t really looking after myself, and felt undeserving of any such care but still resented the uninvited counsel.

It was one of the last things Mottsu said to me. Two days before he left and we were working in the garden shovelling soil preparing for planting. Saturday, and he thought I missed lunch, he didn’t see me eat anything. He gripped my arm and looked at me seriously “Darling, you have to eat lunch, you have to look after yourself” he chastised. I’m angry that he dispensed that advice knowing he was going to look after himself by leaving. He had already carefully planned that cruel and final action and expected I would be able to look after myself in the aftermath.

I did tell him in our last conversation that I would be OK if he was to leave me and I would recover and be able to get on with things, but that’s another story. It was a promise unfairly elicited. I didn’t know just what I was signing up for.

Mottsu was always my hero and without him I was damsel in distress. It’s was struggle to know who or how I was let alone how to look after some lost self.

I hate the pathetic weeping person I become and mostly the bad days outnumbered the good. I couldn’t ask for help, I did’t want people to know how pathetic and needy I was. I wanted to recover and I didn’t want to recover, deep down I felt I didn’t deserve to, guilt constantly whispered that I was undeserving. I was also addicted to the heightened emotional state of despairing and reluctant to let it go.

Mottsu had always looked after me, and taken out the bin. He indulged me and let me have my way too often, he ignored my inner bitch even when it emerged and sat with us on the couch. And he understood my deep need for constant reassurance. He always took my side and always held my hand.

I don’t want to look after myself, stop telling me to look after myself.