annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 44

I'm in the post yoga nidra chillout zone so this will be quick and easy going.

I did art on Facetime with friend B rather than the zoom group from the recovery centre as neither of us can be doing with the new art facilitator. Towards the end of the time, my other pal J texted to ask me what I thought of the new art facilitator, which suggested she was now also having problems. Turned out she was, massive, in the end she contacted the recovery centre who said, yes, we're handling it. It's lasted so long because we're all too nice - at least out there In Real Life - I've been slagging her off on here, and maybe others have at home but none of us have opened a conversation about it till today. That will probably be the end of art group for a while unless we can work out how to use zoom. We could take it in turns to host free 40 minute sessions - three of those with a five minute break in between would cover it. 437FA3FB-A83E-407A-8303-FDBFA3B2C71B

These were today's postcards. My favourite is top right. Bottom left was very wet so I put salt on it as I like how it goes but it takes all the colour out, which I don't like so much.

Writing workshop. One of the tasks was to write a letter to a past self or a future one - inspired by the recent spate of posts on twitter #MeAt20 - she said 'To your 20 year old self' till one of the participants piped up that she was 19, going to be 20 in June so what should she do...

I immediately thought of this photo which a friend posted on my Facebook page last night. That's me and my sis holding Sammie. It's probably at Bloke's wedding, which I did go to as we were good mates even then. He can't remember, but Sis is wearing a frock so it must have been special.


I wrote this, not strictly accurate as I didn't have the photo, knew I didn't want to write about Sam in that place at that moment, and, like all these workshops it's written very quickly. It doesn't have to be - some people produce one perfect sentence, but I'm kind of stuck on free writing where you don't stop at all and this is the kind of stuff that emerges:

Dear Young Anna

I see you there in that photo and I want to come and give you a big hug. Look at you - you're beautiful - how can you think you're fat? I know you grew tall early and thought of yourself as a big lump, but the others caught up with you, you're a fine shape and size and even if you weren't, it's not what matters.

I see you standing there, stooped over, trying not to take up space and I want to tell you it's going to be fine. You're OK. You'll come to know that in the end - can you try to believe it now?

You'll have three children, three of the gobbiest, bossiest kids ever born and they will grow into adults you admire and respect, who enjoy spending time with you.

Get therapy soon. Don't spend decades thinking you know why people don't like you. You don't have to live that way.

It was hard but that was how I felt this afternoon. Then I rushed to the beach to meet Daughter, which made us both cry a bit then get all distant with each other. She came back here to get art and craft stuff out of the loft - she'd finally cleared her flat out and stored it here when we got locked down. She shouldn't have come here really, we shouldn't have met, but we did. It triggered something in me about Sammie - I've been awash with longing to see her, just overwhelmed with it. I took Shirley with me to see Daughter and she loved it, licking the shit out of Daughter and scampering about but staying near us like a good dog - she's currently lying on the floor next to me with hiccups, but here she is on the beach.


And yoga nidra. F0E22DD6-1E6D-45D2-A755-A7AA3B72DC49

I managed to grit my teeth and email my brother in France asking him to call me. He sent a cheery email back at once, not mentioning that he hasn't contacted me at all since not coming to Sam's funeral - though to be fair he did try but could only get a flight to a stupid airport the other side of London - it's not the not coming, though that did upset me at the time, it's the silence afterwards. Ah well. I shall phone him tomorrow to tell him about Auntie Jean - no matter what he's like he doesn't want to hear about that in an email.

I'm thinking I might have a go at a Joe Wicks for seniors video. I miss my gym classes. Is anyone doing keep fit stuff at home? Any of you, I mean. I know some people are.

I am grateful today for: seeing my darling Daughter, even if I do feel anxious about it now; Bloke tying the wisteria into the wires up the front of the house. He said he was going to when I bought it three years ago and it's been one of the things I've been petty about, angry at him saying he'll do it and not, instead of just doing it myself; writing workshops; feeling OK; bed now

Good night xxxxxxx


12:00 a.m. - 25.04.20


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