annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day 238 I feel more relieved than I would have imagined that Trump lost the election. I mean, it does leave us, the UK, with the biggest 'joke' leader (though no one's laughing), but it still feels like a step back to normality. It's left so many of us feeling unhinged to have leaders who lie and cheat and break the law, in our faces, with a yeah, what you gonna do about it? attitude to anyone who doesn't like it. I know he's not out of the White House yet, but at least he didn't win. And Kamala Harris, hell yeah. Apart from that I've had a gloomy day. I got off to a good start with the cold shower and the energy, so started working my way through piles of paperwork that have lingered for too long in corners. This one turned out to be from September last year and was mainly lists of reminders for Sammie's funeral. Order flowers by Tuesday, write eulogy, phone Sam's aunt in Canada. I'd forgotten how awful all that was - so much to do, so many things not to forget. The in between time, limbo. I remember the day she died, vividly and her funeral, but I'd kind of lost all the space in between which turned out to be ages as there were complications over the issuing of the death certificate. More regulations about deaths in care homes due to Shipman and Sam's Dr was on annual leave. There was the intense desire to make it the funeral she deserved, whatever the fuck that means, the sense that this was the last thing I/we would be able to do for her so we wanted it to be the best, whatever that means - we didn't really know. And we ate - me and Son and Daughter - always eat in a crisis, preferably shite. I put on over a stone in those few weeks - about 16 lbs. Anyway, it was hard. Upsetting and a shock as I didn't know it was there. Bloke came into the room, saw me crying and walked out again. I followed him and told him what had upset me, and he said, 'Oh,' and went back to his phone. This is how it's been forever. I can see that at this point, the way I behave means I can't feel hard done by for not getting his support, but this is what he was like when my best friend, Joan, died in 2004. I started this blog as a place to write about him, to explore my thoughts and feelings where no one would find them - but I never wrote about him. I thought it would be a safe, private place, which it was at first, before anyone read my blog, so I don't know why I didn't. Maybe I still really really wanted to find a way to make it work. I suffer from clinical and chronic optimism. Or I used to. I don't know what's going on at the moment. Making the house all nice - for what? Getting the gutters and fascias at the front mended has been huge - it always looked like a rundown wreck of a house and it does still have the bit round the front door all peeling off and awful - that can't be repainted till the spring as the paint won't dry and will peel off just like that. But the door doesn't affect the whole perception like the drooping gutters and boards did. Now it looks OK. I mean, it's still an ex-council house on a rough estate, but it's a 1940s built council house - solid as a rock in its essential structure and now when I turn into the drive my heart doesn't sink in quite the same way. I just googled having a partner on the autistic spectrum and very quickly came to this: "Your autistic partner may have difficulties interpreting non-verbal communication, such as your body language, facial expressions and tone of voice. They may not be able to tell from your behaviour alone that you need support or reassurance. Jeez. Three good things: Enough of this. Goodnight. On we go. Keep safe. xxx 11:18 p.m. - 07.11.20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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