Sunday morning in leafy Hertfordshire. The sun is out sporadically. As ever on a Sunday I'm listening to music and reading. Today it is The Messiah and a rather fun book called A Cheese-monger's History of the British Isles.
Life is hard at the moment. Everything I do and every direction I turn in I'm attacked and criticised. Vulnerability sweats out of every pore. Fear stalks my life and the future feels uncertain.
To have so much going on is really testing my resilience. After a very difficult call on Thursday about a past long buried I have three more difficult meetings next week. I'm likely going back into therapy this week.
Thoughts on that are mixed but I cannot fight on alone.
Yet yesterday I went back to nature to calm my fractious mind. Walking through the woods for the first time since autumn brought a lonely calm. The only interruption a man on an electric bicycle. Must get out in the woods more often.
It's feeling unnervingly likely that I've lost another close friend from my life. A once almost daily exchange of voicenotes with a friend in Kent has succumbed to silence. That she is angry with me is known to me. How to right the schism is not known to me. When I am under pressure and angry some things come out wrong. I regret that.
Must go now, belly pork going in the oven.
I Heard a Voice.
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