annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary
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Friday feelings
I finally got my piece about the hospice (almost) done. I'm going to submit it tomorrow after a last attempt at proof-reading, which has been tricky because I keep getting caught up in remembering it all, rather than looking for typos. It has been really hard all round, but good too, to kind of dwell there again. To remember we all came through it, though we will go back there.
She is a terrible state, my girl, again. This chest infection ebbs and flows like a motherfucker, though I suppose that's better than being there all the time. I shall stop believing them when they say it's over until she's had a run of days without it, if she does indeed get to that. I got her a nebuliser yesterday and they said she'd been better for it.
I didn't see her today, because I had a major panic attack, which I've only had a few of and am not really impressed with (yeah, I will put my prepositions where I like and you can't stop me). It's about keeping going too much, bottling it up too much. So, mad pounding of heart, whooshy sensations, weird visual effects. I had this once before and was taken to hospital where they ran a million tests which all came back clear, and I was asked if it could possibly be stress related... So I sat it out, scared as fuck, because it is scary, it's panic, in the library where I was working on the thing, till I couldn't bear it any more, packed up the laptop and staggered out and down the road to the car. By then the visuals and the whooshy stuff had more or less stopped and the palpitations were less so I headed towards home but didn't want to be stuck indoors with Bloke so went to the beach instead, where it was really high tide, and nowhere to walk. This is where I took the photo of the sunset in the last post
I sat on a rock for a bit, but the waves kept coming right up and I really didn't feel great so I came home, went to bed and slept till seven - about four hours.
Bloke woke me up asking what I wanted for dinner. I'd texted him to tell him I felt like crap, was going to bed and here he was, offering to look after me, but only if I gave him specific instructions. I said, "I feel like crap and can't think," so he sat and looked at me, and that's the deal. He will not initiate any action or make any decision. I know, in the scheme of things this isn't so bad - I have married far worse, more than once. More than twice to be honest, but it's still awful, exhausting and not any kind of proper, equal relationship if I'm doing all the thinking, all the deciding. And where I'm not making decisions, nothing happens or changes. None of the interior doors on the ground floor shut - they all need re-hanging. Every few months we talk about it and he says he'll call a carpenter, but he doesn't and he won't. Meh.
I painted another rooftops thing at Friday art group this morning, before all that, but it was hard as some of the others were talking about politics and one in particular was getting very heated. They were saying things I absolutely agreed with, but fuck off with all that in an urgent voice, on and on, during art group.
I couldn't wait for the paint to dry so did the lines with charcoal. Messy but I kind of like it.
I am grateful for: my pal J reading my thing and suggesting which bits needed to go and being right; my pal C reappearing at art group (at the mental health recovery centre) after a long absence during which I have not felt well enough to contact her - I was right - she said she'd been very angry but had had good therapy and felt well enough again now; Son coming down tomorrow, yay; being able to stay up late writing as I slept so long earlier; new Tana French novel, bliss
Night night xxx
1:21 a.m. - 23.02.19
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