Losing a child - Doing nothing is not a good option

A few weeks ago, I dreamt I was a castaway. Or did I dream that someone cast me away?

I honestly can't remember now, but the effect of either was similar. I was alone, somewhere strange, and seemingly without the means to survive.

Now, don't get me wrong, I can cook and clean and keep house with the best of them, but the thought of just me for company fills me with dread. So too, does the idea of hunting and gathering anywhere other than a good street market or supermarket.

Anyway, in the dream I have no shelter, no-one to speak to and the weather is appalling. The place is so empty and everywhere I walk brings me to the edge of a cliff. Hundreds of feet below the water crashes onto the jagged rocks.

I hate heights, so this is another demon I have to face in this place. So far, that's loneliness and heights. Can things get any worse? Yes, it's getting darker and darker by the second.

I get more and more lost and wetter by the second. I'm exhausted and shocked by what I see. Or don't see or even hear.

There are no people, no buildings, no lights and no sounds, other than the wild weather and crashing waves. It all seems too desperate; it seems there's no end to this - but a bleak end.

I feel so alone as I bruise and cut myself, stumbling around in the dark.

I can't understand why Mrs B isn't here. Perhaps it was her that cast me away? Nah, that can't be true, can it? She won't spend years knocking another one into shape, surely?

Suddenly, panic overcomes me. I mean, genuine panic. This isn't the 'Oh, goodness where are my glasses' or 'How the bleep will I pay this bill' panic. It's desperate, cold sweat stuff. My heart rate soars, I thrash about. I'm totally disorientated… and then Mrs B wakes me.

I feel reassured, simply because she's still there. But there have been several similar dreams recently, and each has frightened me more than the last.

Worst still, my imagination can run away with me when I'm awake. It's a mixture of all the emotions. I feel sadness. I'm still shocked. Then comes anger, desperation, exhaustion and guilt.

Later that day, I check on the internet and find that overwhelming anxiety and fear in a dream may show that I feel trapped or helpless in a situation. I read more and I'm left with no doubt. I'm avoiding dealing with the biggest waking life problem I have. Grief . Losing a child. Our only daughter.

I tell someone about the panic attacks, dreamt and otherwise. I tell them about the stress of investigations and an inquest.

'I'm not surprised you feel that way. No-one would be. Too many people bottle it up and it's made you ill,' they say. 'Do you want to talk about it? I'm not a trained counsellor. But if you do, I'm happy to listen.'

'Yes, please.'

And, as they say, every little helps. I now talk more openly about our loss, share memories and photographs of our daughter. We will never heal. But I can remember all the good years with Charlotte rather than just trying to forget the bad times in recent months.

I have to accept that while losing a child is against the natural order of life; I also have to accept that neglect and errors contributed to Charlotte's death.

There are no rules for grieving. But doing nothing is not a good option.

Mrs B has her way or grieving. I have mine.

Together, we cope and make progress.

Talking to someone who doesn't judge is really helpful.

A healthier lifestyle helps as well.

Keeping busy helps me. Which is why you're reading this.