A week ago I was down at the seaside. Kent was cold and wet that day. I had escaped the madness of my working life but was beating myself up with guilt for not being there. My mood was low but the anxiety had eased a little. Whilst cooking a shin of beef in ale casserole I wrestled with what to do tomorrow. Go home or stay an extra day?
In the end I caught the train home last Saturday. Time was on my side to try to get better but I was disappointed with my progress. At that point who could have thought what would happen next.
The following Friday has arrived. It has been a devastating week and at times I was in such a dark place that I was thinking really bad thoughts. But as I sit here on a cold Friday night I have somewhere to move to, I have got rid of a lot of stuff, made a start and done the initial stages of moving. There is a long way to go and I'm still terrified but I'm on my way.
Knowing that things under this pressure are unlikely to level out for a while I had to go back to the doctor. That has bought me another two weeks. Not what I want but apparently necessary.
My lovely friend Jazz text and offered to meet for lunch. We haven't seen each other for three years. Her daughter Teagan was still a baby then. So good to meet up but my unsteady, anxious shakiness made eating hard.
I have done enough for today. Things are going round my head and lots to do but I'm in a better place than where I feared I might be on Monday afternoon.
I'm not sure what to eat for supper. I feel hungry but can't face eating or cooking. Fish and chips perhaps? Not what I normally eat but an option.
Sleep remains erratic which causes me quite a lot of concern. Can't let a meltdown happen now however far my fertile mind takes me to ludicrous and dark places. In three weeks I will be in a new flat. It's only next door. And The Hedgehog remains over the road. See you all soon.
I Heard a Voice.
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