annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kindness On we go, just about, on we go. Today I kept forgetting stuff, though it worked out OK in the end because people were nice. I set off for therapy having spent quite a while carefully gathering everything I needed into my bag. Off I went, leaving the bag behind, including my purse. I don't have to pay for therapy on the day - we don't talk about money after the first conversation where I was given her bank details and I pay the money straight in the day before the session every week. But therapy makes me really hungry so I go straight to a cafe in the park, then stop somewhere to walk Shirley. Dogs are allowed in my therapy place and she's dead good, just sleeps on the floor. So after the session I phoned the cafe (had my phone on me, it's attached to my hand), explained the situation and they said of course! No worries! Come and have breakfast and bring your lovely Shirley, see you in a bit. So I calmed down, had my avocado on sourdough followed by a cortado and walked the dog right up high on the downs in the full force of the wind. I just wanted to be in among the trees and that's what we did, me and Shirley, then we came home. Where I found a lovely little card from one of the women at the recovery centre I can't go to any more saying, "Just a wee reminder: You are seen. You are heard. You are loved." Well that made me cry, obviously, and then I went off to the wool shop in the next town as all the wool I've been keeping has been munched through by moths (fuckers) and I want to knit to stop me being on the phone all evening. Lovely friendly woman in the shop helped me choose nice colours; we had a laugh about both having had grey and maroon school uniforms and only just being able to look at them together now. She rang up the items on the till and I realised I'd left my bank card at home - by the laptop from when I checked my balance online. They only take card payments. Ah fuckit. I had cash but couldn't work out how to convert it to a card, so she said, "I know! I'll pay for it on my card and you can give me the cash," which was far more niceness than I merited for one day and made me feel a bit weepy so I went across the road and had a cream tea and fuck the fucking diet. It's cold and wet and windy as fuck and sometimes a couple of scones with jam and thick clotted cream and a good strong cup of milky coffee are what's called for. Then home and just like yesterday, light the fire, make a pot of ginger and lemon tea, put on Call the Midwife and knit an unattractive scarf. I've also binged all seven episodes of This Is Going to Hurt, which is great and awful and based on truth, based on the life of the author when he was a junior doctor. After he escaped from being a doctor and became a successful writer, he retweeted the post about me needing money for Sammie's funeral, which led to massive donations so I love him quite a lot. I'm meant to be writing about therapy - exploring the 'detached protector' and seeing if I can get it to stop coming between me and the 'vulnerable child' so that I can get to actually feel some of the feelings that are buried deep within me and are only seen occasionally like flashes of lightning - sudden, violent then gone. But maybe tomorrow, eh? Today I am grateful for the kindness I have received. 12:21 a.m. - 17.02.22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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