annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 164

I kept busy again today. Writing workshop first, this time on the theme of secrets. First exercise, 10 mins on "I've never told anyone..."

I've never told anyone who wasn't there at the time what I did that caused all the mayhem during my first mental breakdown, and I'm not going to start now. At the time my feelings were overwhelming and my actions were led by those feelings. It wasn't till years later that I discovered thoughts were the thing, it was my thoughts that had led me astray. Inappropriate to the point of literal madness. A part of me knew it and was terrified - if you can't trust your mind you have nothing to rely on.

A visibly bored psychiatrist diagnosed depression without explaining the difference between clinical depression and being fed up. He was still wrong. I had a form of obsessive compulsive disorder that ruled my mind and my life and destroyed my family - my 16 year old son went to Social Services asking to be rehoused as he couldn't live with a mother like me and then didn't speak to me for over two years.

We healed our relationships over time - he was no angel himself, poor sod - but the things I did and said were beyond belief. Thank fuck it was pre-internet or I'd probably have spewed it all out online and there it would be forever.


I didn't fancy the picture for this week's Recovery Centre art group so I finally got round to the Turner via the mad Facebook page.


The Fighting Temeraire. All the copies of it online are different colours, some very pale, others much stronger. The teacher went for a stronger vibe.


I am pleased with this. I'd been looking forward to it for a long time - I even bought a canvas - then was scared I'd fuck it up so have left it for ages. I might do more to the sky, which is more subtle than it looks here, but could be improved. I know it could all be improved, but not by me.

There was a print of this in the small lounge at the care home, where meetings with outside agencies were held, always bad news in the end. It was where I slept for half an hour while she lay dying, where we all hid while the undertakers took her body away. Somehow that doesn't put me off. I like this painting a lot.

I stuck to the no carbs all day - look at my lunch:D35653A4-825D-4F55-A046-F1B84434B9E3

Tuna, cucumber from the greenhouse, and avocado in mayonnaise, served on lettuce with tomatoes from the greenhouse. Delicious and more filling than you'd think.

I wanted to walk this afternoon, but the wind has been ludicrously strong. They're calling it Storm something or other, can't remember. I drove down to the seafront and nearly lost the car door getting out. In the end I walked just over a mile, which is rubbish, but it was hard going so it must count for something. On the way back to the car I saw they'd put up photos on the hoarding round the half-built flats, including one of the boat Jo-Anna, so I got a passing bloke to take this shot of me:


I like the way my coat is billowing up at the side and generally making weird shapes. I also like that I've reached the age where I don't care about wearing shit, cheap trainers with a dress. The age of comfort over style. That headband succeeded in keeping the wind out of my ears, but only just. It's very small.

Three good things today: writing workshop; doing that painting; walking in the wild wind - exhilarating. Making it through another fucking day.


12:03 a.m. - 26.08.20


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