I have to write my blog early in the morning in the week because come 8.30am I lend my laptop to P for school. Sometimes it seems far too early to be focusing my bleary eyes and thoughts into some kind of sense, but other times it’s when I’m at my most lucid thankfully. Let’s see how this one goes.
Last week wasn’t great. It culminated in Saturday where I genuinely thought I would never stop crying. The tears kept coming out of the blue – once when we tried to go for a walk. I had to turn back and go home, head down to the pavement because I was sobbing. I was just too sad to even talk to my beautiful daughter. I came home and ran a bath, then while my family played on the Switch loudly I fell asleep right next to them on the sofa for over an hour and a half. When I woke we ate soup and the day ended better than it began with board games and a film with Paul. Tilly asked for my help with her poem and I was once again staggered by her way with words and her tenacity. I dragged myself round the kitchen to make a roast dinner, while the others got on with various projects, and the result made me wonder whether roast potatoes have healing qualities.
Anyway yesterday was better. I talked things through, did a bit of DIY, made a cake with P, watched the birds, laughed at Phoebe dressing up, listened to them having a zoom play rehearsal, played piano for a long time, dragged myself for a run in the rain and watched yet another new detective series with the girls (which was good but required quite a bit of explanation of bordellos.) I made fairly dodgy foccacia and we ate that with sausages and frozen green beans because the food delivery doesn’t come until tomorrow. It was delicious.
The underlying worries don’t go away and let’s be clear I am worried about lots of things. Big things like climate change, Black Lives Matter, the government sneakily changing food standards, Covid-19, Brexit, why I seemingly don’t agree with more than half the nation. Small things that are probably small but seem just as big. I’m lonely and missing seeing my friends. My head hurts – both in reality and as a metaphor. But my reaction to the worries fluctuates. Which is a good job really – although I’d rather the up was a lot more often than the down.
This is not a sympathy call. This is just for the record and as some sort of therapy. Whether you are having a tough time, or you are feeling really positive, you have my love and thoughts. One day at a time.