annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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Feb 24th

I arrived home and for some reason decided to unpack my suitcase at once. I had a new packet of sleeping pills that Bloke had picked up from the chemist last Wednesday. They were in my case, still in the paper bag they came in, but the box was open and there was only one strip in it instead of two. I have a vague memory of taking a strip with me, or at least deciding to, in case I wanted to stay an extra night or two at D's, in Glastonbury. But here was one strip in the box so where's the other? They each have 14 pills on, so two weeks worth. I can't find it anywhere. I've turned the place upside down but I can't find the fucking thing and it's done me. The section of the old blog I've been reading has a bit about me accidentally running out of sleeping pills (because I'd given Daughter too many, one here and another there, when she was struggling and needed rest), and how agitated and mental I'd got. They won't prescribe me a week early, I shouldn't think, though I'll have to ask tomorrow, as they might, but if they don't I don't know what I'm going to do. I feel completely beside myself, as if someone has reached a hand into my chest and is twisting everything around and I might sick up all my guts at any moment.

I might have taken them with me but I don't see how I can have lost them and I don't know why I'd have taken both strips separately. They might have fallen out in my room at the retreat, but I had a good look before I left, or at D's last night but I don't see how they can have done and if they did they'd have been found by now.

This evening has been spent alternately trying to relax in front of the telly and leaping about tearing stuff off shelves, shaking clothes in case they're hiding something - thinking they must be in a pocket but none of my clothes have any fucking pockets.

Oh man.

But I don't want to forget I had a good time while I was away - challenging, but I managed myself OK I think, to the extent that I don't think I was a talking point for my behaviour and I didn't mention Sam at all until the last day - I couldn't bear not having spoken about her for all that time, my darling girl, but even then I think I was OK, not laying all my pain out there on these cool people. Women.  But now that time already feels the other side of something, too far away to make contact with.

And it's late and I have shitloads to do tomorrow but I also want to remember that I visited Dolly the beach clean queen in Clovelly on the way home, though I didn't make it all the way down the steep hill because of the cobbles and it being 3/4 of a mile. So I went to Wesward Ho! the only British town with a punctuation mark in its name and huge waves from across the Atlantic crashing onto a fantastically wide beach with sand and mist and tiny people scattered across it like Lowry figures. I bought a delicious pasty and ate that on the beach then hurried on to Glasto to spend the night at D's, where S came round to eat with us - she was my birth partner when I had Daughter at home and I named Daughter for her, just used the alternative spelling. It was like coming home, us three being together, sitting in the kitchen laughing, sharing all our sorrows and turning them into something we can carry somehow.

Today we walked on the Somerset Levels, squelchy underfoot, beautiful, amongst the winter trees, all waterlogged and silent and then I drove home for hours and fucking hours and looked for my pills and now I'm going to take one of them and go to sleep.

I am grateful today for: friends; Bloke cooking dinner; my little dog so pleased to see me; long chat with Daughter; having a blog to moan. Night night

12:28 a.m. - 25.02.20

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