It is afternoon already – 1240 hrs – here, and I expect a few of you thought I may not be writing this today. Truth to tell, I did sleep in a little – it’s Belinda’s day off from her frenetic Sistership of her ward – and I was also brought up short by my daughter’s comments on yesterday’s blogpost.
I am still feeling kind of good – ‘the mist has cleared’ as a good friend puts it – and the sunshine, combined with my daughter’s comments, have left me in a positive, workaday frame of mind.
We do have them, us depressed (and, sometimes, depressing) lot. We enjoy them terribly much, and are far more appreciative of ‘good’ days than you ‘normal’ lot! I’m considering some DIY, as the bathroom needs finishing off (for good, really, but we need one) and Belinda is, once torn from her Kindle (The Spiritual Brain, if you must know), enthusiastic as well, and not just because she gets a shiny finished bathroom; she knows how much better it will make me feel when it is done.
There are many such things to be done, not least the
jungle garden; and I have to be careful to think of them one at a time. Becoming overwhelmed is very easy for me, and that’s when I start groaning out loud, and I’m afraid, swearing not a little out loud also. It sort of bursts out of me without warning. It’s a defence I suppose, but God knows how it works.
Strangenesses like these abound, and make me wary of social situations where I may be subject to a number of different stimuli – noise, lighting, people, strangers. Also going shopping in a real town, as opposed to a supermarket, where there may be loud people, crowds, music, cars, helicopters, police, sirens, buskers, people running … The list goes on.
This morning, however, I feel like I could manage Oxford Street during the sales, so that’s all to the good. And I’m not manic – I know I cannot build a summerhouse in the garden by sundown, or redecorate the kitchen in an afternoon. So it’s good.
I’ll let you know how the day goes on, as usual. I’m hoping – though it is less dramatic for the purposes of this blog! – that the mood is sustained.
Colour me pinky and call me Ethel, but the bathroom remains undone. It’s a combination of lazy day lassitude on both our parts, the wife and I. I need dragging out of chairs to get me started on things, and I was allowed to remain. i don’t have a problem with it – I may feel a little guilty later on, and maybe a little down that I didn’t have the strength to fight for the DIY, but that’s something that anyone could be forgiven for, in my book, ill or no.
I’m drifting a little, and that’s not a Good Thing. Even this blog I am currently typing away at is more a way of procrastinating than a writing experience. If I continue to drift, that is the way down. This I know, so I will, following this entry, gird my not inconsiderable loins and Do Something. I’ll have to do it off my own bat, but this is what I am good at, after all. I’m often on my own, and I have to sort things out. It’s not the drift into Down that catches me out – I can spot it, and deal with it – it is the sudden and complete reversal of mood that is the big killer. That comes out of the blue, sometimes from known triggers, sometimes as abstract as one of my paintings. Do any of you ‘normal’ people have that I wonder? Fear or anxiety that has no obvious cause? Just random, abstract emotion?
I know my wife has abstract impatience or annoyances when hormonally challenged, I wonder if fear/anxiety has the same mechanism somewhere? Anyway, I digress.
I’m wanting to cook something special, and at the moment don’t feel able to make a list for shopping, let alone cooking. But I think I should. Maybe I will hit the recipe books after I am finished here.
Ordinary, everyday tasks have to be broken down into tiny pieces. If the number of pieces becomes large, then the task becomes impossible. I know that other people in my position find the same, anecdotally at least. Earlier this afternoon, I looked for a date and ginger sponge recipe. At that time I then looked up how to crystallise the fresh ginger that I have. At that point I could have – should have – done that. Now it is not a possibility. But I will cook. And it will be okay. I have enough strength to struggle on, and that is fine. I really don’t ask for much more, because the times of strengthlessness are the utter pits.
The cats are about to eat my face off, as I have not fed them yet. They sit looking at me, licking lips, questioning whether I want to forget for an hour longer, go ahead punk, make my day, dou you fee lucky punk writ large on their feline faces. One absent-mindedly tries extending claws in a lazy, affected way.
I had better go. I’ll write later. If I don’t, please call the RSPCA SWAT team.
You didn’t call the RSPCA did you? Whew. Just an Internet outage. See tomorrow.