I have just been in a bad place. A bad, sad, mad place.
The bad is lots of things that I can’t go into too much detail about because they involve my husband and his family and I try not to write about that here, lest I spill my resentment in un-take-back-able detail. It is also about the ongoing issues caused by my father’s death. Again, can’t talk about it.
It is about the acute arthritis pain flare I am suffering with: something that impacts upon my ability to work. I do still work but I am hurting so much and strapped up with tape and braces; the pain is making me so bad tempered at the end of the day. The effort of playing nice to passengers, and sucking it up as far as the office is concerned, is extreme at times. I don’t like the person that pain turns me into.
Today, after two days off, taped and braced to the eyeballs, I drove out of the yard and, immediately, the little rodent that has taken up residence in my right knee sank his fangs deep, deep in. I am ashamed to say that I started to cry: not because the pain was so severe (it was more insistent and nagging) but because I need to work and it hurts me to work and I have five days of this in front of me. I am a coward.
The sad? Well, my father is still dead. I thought, I honestly thought, that it would get easier and I would relegate him to a position in my life where I missed him but appreciated everything he had given me and would remember him always. It doesn’t work like that. I miss him and mourn for him for what he no longer brings to my life; the love that he gave to me isn’t there any more. I am acting as a selfish child but, once upon a time, he loved me best of anybody else in the world and nobody will ever love me that way again. No wonder I mourn for the lack of that love.
Mad? I don’t know. At times, I don’t answer phones or go out or cry for hours. But then, I’ve always hated answering phones and I hate crowds and maybe this is just grieving. It is just, lately, social anxiety symptoms are a lot more pronounced and the downs are really, really far down. Should I do something about it? Probably. But I don’t have energy to spare. I use it up to just carry on living the basic routine of my life. Anything else I just can’t cope with.
And writing is one of those things. Nothing extra. The only reason I can do it today is that the husband is away. Extra available.
It is raining. It has been raining for eight weeks. The grey sky outside seems like a permanent state of affairs. Logically, I know winter is going to end outside but for me it feels like it will go on being grey and dripping for the rest of my life. I hate depression and the ‘locked in’ state where you can’t see any further than the immediate now. I’ve survived it before; I am sure I can do it again but it is so miserable living it.