Days like today make me wonder if I am bi-polar. I was up - and about by 9am-ish - which has been unheard of for quite a few weeks (understatement - but I have been told to be gentle on myself) and I had some energy. Still all a bit of an effort to remember the order for personal hygiene and had to go back to brush my hair. But after yesterday's psychological forensics at the centre and with my partner afterwards - combined with making everyone a cup of tea when I got home - I felt I was making genuine progress in a way that I could actually comprehend rather than block at the deepest levels. It's still feeling as though it is worth exploring further and as and when I am able, I am trying to reflect further.
So, after a deep discussion yesterday until we were both knackered about balance in life etc... we decided we do need to get cracking on creating community as soon as I am signed off as fit again. This gives a new project and something to hold on to when I feel so very desolate. This was the motivation for a window shopping trip and lunch at Simpson's. I tried to persuade my partner that as Simpson's Garden Centre is next door to SSPCA (the same as the RSPCA in England) that we could slip next door and visit the cattery as I would love two kittens. He very gently rehearsed me through just how easy it is to distract myself from the primary task of nurturing and discovering the depths of myself. After all there can be no better excuse at the centre than the kittens have eaten my homework. But we have agreed to think again. In reality probably after we move. In the meantime I've to sort out when my new guide dog will be coming on line. It doesn't seem possible that Rainbow is 9.
As our gentle lunch progressed we both had to smile; we had done virtually no window shopping or very little for tiles and kitchen makeovers - all the usual ...sells houses rubbish. Instead we had known that my mum wanted a new lamp and an new office chair - and with me not being well enough the task had gone further and further down the waiting list. In a way it is quite funny that when we set out to do something that fires us (getting the community from virtual to reality and beginning to cost and choose for the work we will do before we sell) we end up still putting our best foot forward for my mum. There's no doubt that at some deep level both my partner and I have a default position of being there for others and are quite unclear what being there for ourselves means.
I was absolutely pooped very suddenly and just needed to get home and climb into bed. My head was racing, but mostly with how stupid we had been not to realise what we were doing. I felt really shaky once I got home - but I had visited three shops and spoke to customer services in two of them. SERIOUS PROGRESS PRACTICALLY.
The plan is to get me well and then get the house ready for sale. We need an acre or seven and a smallish house with outbuildings in a beautiful location. Possible community members will talk when we meet after Easter where our search will be with our now blank sheet of paper - so start praying. But whatever, we will have to have sold to buy, if you see what I mean - particularly under the Scottish system. Still we have a tent, caravan and awning and some understanding friends with fields!!!
The darkest part of the day was as my energy levels dropped and I began to panic again that this was a sign I wasn't coping. I think I was pooped. I did not speak or act inappropriately apparently, apart from insisting in one bathroom store that I pretended the circular perspex shower cubicle with sliding door was like a capsule on the Star Ship Enterprise and we made "Swishing" noises as we synchronized the opening and closing of the doors. A small girl shopping with her mum gave us strange looks - but I suspect the sales people had seen it all before. It would have been great if you just waved your hand and it swished open or shut.
Spent the rest of the day in bed. Het up and anxious. Physically shaking. Probably over did it a bit. But I have tried.
I am trying to claim some destructive way of expressing my anger. I am struggling with this and may need to resort to painting - although at one point I wondered whether one of my son's partly destroyed toys stored in the loft would do as a bash-up object. I almost cried at the thought becaue those toys and remaining bits were bought at the time with such great hopes and high, well meant intentions. They were expressions of love and nurture. He has destroyed them. I can't. Maybe a mosaic might work? I'll just have to think on.
Agitated and anxious tonight - but I know this is par for the course. I am accepting my illness and its limitations and releasing some energy which I have been using up to now to fight the fact that I'm really very ill and can't just paper over the cracks enough to carry on. If the new Jane ends up into fashion and bling I really will go for voluntary euthanasia - and I'll go to the vet because the rates are better.
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