annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary



I can't remember what I've written about and what I haven't so I'll apologise now for any duplications and wittering on.

Younger Daughter has just done 30 days drug and drink free and has posted about it on facebook so it's out there now. Good for her and good for the 12 step programme which is quite astonishing, in many ways. She wants me to go to Al-anon and do the steps but I'm too tired.  It does sound tempting, but I'm so fucking brain dead at the moment.

Elder daughter is asleep again. Hasn't been up in her chair for a week. Apparently she's awake at night and it's just her body clock being fucked up but I still don't like it. She feels peaceful, is sleeping peacefully, but still.

These are my latest batch of wraps - cotton coated in beeswax, for use instead of cling film. They last about a year apparently, wash in cool water, don't use with raw meat or fish. I can post them to anywhere for a few pence. I don't know why the photo came out with this blue tinge - they are 10" square and cost £5 each with not a lot for p&P


Trying something new in art groups - the rooftops, which run in rows over the interlocking hills, which I keep forgetting to get a new photo of, so I keep repeating the same thing. I posted the first one a few weeks back, but here are some more, not offered in a finished state, more abandoned as I get to a point where I can only make them worse and I don't have the patience at the moment to draw in the roofs and windows properly





I like the last one least, though I did manage to get the houses smaller in the distance, rather than bigger and bigger, also has the colour fading appropriately. But I quite like the middle sections of the other two, it's just the foregrounds - I mean wtf with the bottom right section of the second one?

I am so fucked off with Bloke at the moment. I've probably said this before, but it feels like when I was a child, living with Ma (step-mother), who fed me and clothed me and expected me to be grateful for that and not want more, like hugs and kindness. Bloke cooks for me and pays the bills and again, I want more, but not from him any more, actually, plus I am scared of ending up with less. I see people sleeping in doorways every day - it's only a few bad choices away. I don't have enough coming in to support myself and the benefit system isn't reliable with this lot in power. I know I can't work - I've managed to get myself in such a fucking state over the form for DBS (criminal records check, required for my writing groups as they are with 'vulnerable adults' which includes me too, sigh).  I'm living in that place where any little thing going wrong can tip me into meltdown. Not anger, just despair and hopelessness and the total inability to think myself through it. Like the whole business of doing two different things in the city and having to decide where to park and for how long. I'm having that about tomorrow - yoga from 1 - 2.30, then acupuncture at 3.30, about a mile away, but then where I'd park, I put myself four miles away from the car and can I walk all that after doing yoga as well? With quite a few hills. Bloke either just tells me I'm being ridiculous or tells me where he parks, which is close to where he's going, city centre, fucking expensive.

Bedtime though. Grateful for: some of the care home staff who are just bloody lovely; YD lending me £30; for AA and all of that being free and so so so supportive and massive - who knew it was all lurking under the surface - makes me wonder what else is going on; living by the sea; having art groups; getting notes and comments and feeling connected, part of a thing.

Sleep tight darlings, look after your good selves xxx

12:43 a.m. - 11.02.19


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