annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Saturday So saying I'll write about an aspect of therapy is stopping me writing, or stopping me getting started at a reasonable hour, so I'll drop that expectation and see how I get on. Although I can say that it's about the 'detached protector' aspect, something that kids who have neglectful or abusive childhoods can develop to help them survive. It causes a distraction of one kind or another to avoid getting overwhelmed by unpleasant emotions, sometimes deliberately, like when Sam was dying and I felt I had to push away all the feelings for fear of ruining the time she did have, other times inadvertently. But I'm not so sure about those times. People say I'm coping well but that means I'm not an emotional wreck, weeping and wailing all over the place. It also means I'm not so aware of happy feelings - I am sometimes but not often - it's more like thinking this is good than feeling it. But never mind all that. I do want to go to bed early enough to wake up early enough to spend more time in daylight. Bloke's best friend, the one he used to go bird-watching with, who moved to Germany about seven years ago, is in the last stages of dying of cancer. I find I can't be as supportive of him as I would be of just about any other living person, which is not ideal, but there it is. I mean, I'm not being mean, but I'd give anyone else a hug and that's not possible at all. I can't even listen to him much, by which I mean my mind switches off as if it's going blah blah blah not listening and you can't make me. I've had this before when I was selling the house on the river bank and could not for the life of me listen to my own solicitor talking about things I needed to know. About five minutes, probably less. Luckily I'd known him for years and knew I could trust him implicitly so I did and all was well. It makes me think of those poor kids I used to teach, some of whom came from chaotic, violent homes. Their eyes used to glaze over and too late I now understand that there's nothing to be done, they're full of all they can take right now. That's where I am with Bloke and his mate. I know it's not acceptable so I'm doing my best to be the best I can be, The storm passed without too much trouble. Trees came down, quite a few, and electricity was off but not here. It was still windy as fuck here today, but back to normal windy af, not so windy I couldn't make my way round the corner of a building, no matter how hard I tried. Never had that before. It's made me really want my leg mended as there's so much stuff washed up on the beach but I cannot walk on the shingle for more than a few minutes without my leg really hurting. I don't want to be an ex-beach-cleaner. I want to get back out there and do my bit. So I'm going to phone the rheumatology dept on Monday and see if I can get any sense out of them. It's not about sense, it's about how fucked up they've been by Covid. How much staff sickness and absence has put them behind schedule. I can't even remember when I had the MRI scan which is meant to reveal whether there's a simple cure or not. Steroid injection and I could be walking as nimbly as a goat up and down the banks of shingle. Someone posted <A HREF="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ceX5jJ5fggs"> this </A> just now - fab. Today i am grateful for a visit from my friend SB and Ant and Dec being back on telly 12:52 a.m. - 20.02.22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||