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Wriggle Room

Posted Mar 07 2010 12:00am
It's brilliant sunshine outside but the ground is crispy with frost. I feel trapped inside the house by the cold. I long for days when I can flop about under a tree with a good book or a crochet project. I miss the olden days of being able to go out for a brisk walk or a bike ride to clear the cobwebs and get my circulation going.

I seem a little better today. The crisis team woman came to see me yesterday and seemed rather surprised she had been summoned at all. You see, I have very polite breakdowns and I'm fairly articulate about my inner landscape. We made a care plan, but I can't remember what that was. Quite honestly there isn't much on offer unless you are completely critical. There is at least a six month wait for one to one counselling for example. She left me with a list of phone numbers and a promise that someone would call me today. She was nice, obviously good at her job but the reality is that unless I'm, in her words, 'walking into the woods with a piece of rope', I'm not really a good fit for her team (the last bit is my words). Talking has helped though and given me a little 'wriggle room'.

My biggest practical problem at the moment is my small energy envelope and severe lack of concentration. OK, I feel sad, angry and low, but don't I always? I can deal with feelings; feelings is living. Not being able to think, or having distorted thinking is the worst thing about this. But you are writing OK I hear you cry. Yeah, but I'm staring out the window every other word and keep having to reread what I've just written. 

I think it was helpful for AJ to see there was some intervention happening and give some of his own view of what's going on. He was seriously considering cancelling a work trip but has decided to go now. I want the house to myself for a couple of days so I can find my way out of this without the guilt of not being very present for him. And find my way out of it I shall.

Better get on now. I've been putting off the effort of getting washed and dressed. One foot in front of the other . . . . .
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