annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Wednesday night

It's one of those times where I'm doing quite well by distracting myself like fuck, but am starting to miss writing, which is crap because even thinking about writing here brings me bang into what I'm not thinking about. I've eaten three packets of crisps while trying to get started and I think I'll just have another one, to be safe.

OK, that didn't make much difference. Like all this stuff, it's grand while you're doing it but when it stops you're back to waiting for your daughter to die.

This is the message - DO NOT get optimistic. REMEMBER this is temporary. This is NOT recovery. This is BORROWED time. Enjoy it, appreciate it, but know that it will be OVER. Yeah, yeah, whatever, fuckers.

Three months it's been, almost. I try to appreciate her but she's not very present very much of the time. Mostly I sit there trying not to howl, clenching my jaw, making myself breathe, holding her hand. Or I just fuck about on my phone and then feel guilty because what's the point of being there if that's all I'm doing? But there's only me and the aunt left as visitors and I couldn't not go. I did manage to not go on Sunday and on Monday but then that was it - I was mental with not seeing her by Tuesday then as soon as I got there I wanted to leave. But I didn't.

On Monday I did so much self-care that it morphed into self-indulgence but I still felt like crap as soon as I stopped. I did morning pages as soon as I woke up, then made myself turmeric tea, breakfast of fried eggs, potatoes, and tomatoes, coffee; meditation; then off to art group for relatives at the hospice where I painted a great big thing - look at the woman on the right - that's how big:


Then got in my car and drove like the wind to yoga.  Ninety minutes of that, two hours walking round the city, interrupted only by chicken and chips and more coffee, then acupuncture, more walking back to the car, over five miles altogether, then home and weeping, just weeping and being mean to Bloke - I don't know why it all makes me hate him so much - but what am I to make of all that? Too much self-care? Impossible task?

Yesterday I did Tuesday art and swam in the sea and visited Sam and walked and beach-cleaned till it was almost dark - though it wasn't really dark, just rain clouds gathering.


Today was singing, last singing till September, but I shall go back to the dancing in September when that starts. August is a dry month for activities as everyone fucks off.  Still art and yoga but with a different teacher. I want to keep up the yoga again - I don't know how long I didn't go for but it was enough to seize me right up. Luckily it will all loosen again quite quickly, but you don't have much leeway when you're getting on a bit.

I wrote down what we sang in singing group as it's always a bizarre mixture and I always forget. So: Waltzing Matilda; Summer Holiday; With a Little Help from my Friends; Yellow Submarine; Let's Go fly a Kite; My Grandfather's Clock; Might as well rain Until September; As Time Goes By; My Heart will go On; It's a Long Way to Tipperary; Hallelujah; Moon River (my choice); Rivers of Babylon; I Wanna Hold Your Hand and Imagine. They're all pretty old as all the other groups this pair do are with the over-55s and they forget that old doesn't mean the fucking war any more. There was a thing about that on twitter the other day - someone put up one of those graphics about words used to describe older people and it was all care, cost, need, demands etc. I replied that they seem to have forgotten that we're the Woodstock generation - where's the spliff? Which generated some good chat. The other thing I've liked has been  which has kept me amused. Rhythm is a wanker, obviously. I love to love, but my baby just loves to wank. Wanking Queen. You get the drift. Wanking is masturbating, in case you didn't know.

I was going to write something about the awful stuff we're learning about food production in the US since our cuntish govt is trying to force us into a trade deal with them instead of the EU. honestly, land of the free, my arse. The only freedom is for rich corporations to make whatever poisonous crap they like - there's no freedom to eat decent food, decently produced, at an affordable price. Awful.

And Trump and the trans people and the military. I mean I support trans folk wherever, but the military can fuck right off - they're all about killing for fuck's sake.

That's me done. Nightie night.

1:23 a.m. - 27.07.17


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