Trying Day

It never ceases to amaze me how short lived the effects of any situation or event can be. I don't know if it's just me who operates like this, or whether others experience the same feeling of being a yo-yo when it comes to how one feels, but it's a bit tiresome. It was only a week ago that I got to the point where I had realised that things weren't right and decided to deal with them. Making that decision made me feel amazingly light-hearted and energised and full of beans. Suddenly, I was walking well and feeling really positive; I decided to face things head on, talk out the things that were troubling me and make a start on getting my life into some sort of order that made me feel as if I am mistress of my own destiny, or at least the captain of my own ship.

Last week feels like a lifetime ago. Since then, TGW has been to visit and we went off to a splendid lecture by Prof. Ronald Hutton on the Pagans of the Ancient British Isles, which was fascinating and well delivered. Then Kim and I went off to the lovely Hill House for a couple of days and I was feeling so positive that I managed to walk around Hay-On-Wye all day and it seemed that was confirmation that things were getting better and that I had made a start. Then I came home. I had an appointment with Dr Pain, my very amusing Osteopath on Thursday and came out feeling... ok. I got back to the house to a client sending snappy emails because they thought they could get something for nothing and when they found they couldn't (because I wasn't as stupid as they had hoped) they tried to pick holes, unsuccessfully, in my work. Then it was an evening of working out money, or rather the lack of it, and what we could and couldn't afford to do in terms of sorting out the house and before you could say "Not a bloody lot!" I was all locked up and limping like I'd lost my zimmer-frame again.

Today, Kim was supposed to be working in London and I had made plans or the day that included a bit of 'me time' as well as work. He wasn't well and stayed at home instead. It was really odd as it totally threw me. I had expected to get certain things done before I had to leave the house and instead there was the usual desultory conversations and I ended up being late and not taking half the things with me that I needed to take. I have realised that I'm feeling claustrophobic after what is now a full week of total immersion and no time apart from each other except for visits to the bathroom, my trip to the Osteopath and my trip out today. Is this normal? How do people who have retired cope? I feel almost churlish mentioning this, but I can't see how it's healthy for people to be on top of each other so much. Trouble is, there is no option - it's not like I have an external place to go to work, where I can lock myself away, hence I had decided that I would rather give up the idea of working for myself and get a job as an employee than continue as I am. It's not just that though. Today I cracked and asked for some quiet time - just being left alone in my room to do things but all I can hear is "Ho, hum", puffing and huffing and other noises designed to make sure that I'm aware of another presence. I'd put headphones on and blow my brains out with loud rock music if I didn't have such a tension headache!

The question is, how do I get through this? We have another nine and a half days in this situation before he's off in London working and I'm managing the interaction very poorly. I could consume sufficient alcohol to blot out my evenings and make my days so hang-over filled that I'd have something more pressing to think about, but it doesn't seem like a smart solution. I could go out, but the walking bit isn't an option and sitting in a car watching the grockles go by has all the allure of macraméing one's own belly button fluff. There's no way I can inflict myself upon friends as I shall just be such a droning old bore that they'd start avoiding me, so I'm left with the dilemma of: what do I do to make this situation better? I'm a bit stuck really and while it's happening, my confidence and feeling that I'm making my life better slips away from me.

I thought we had talked things through and that I had made some progress in expressing how hemmed-in and frustrated I feel, but it's as if the conversation never happened. Everything is same old, same old. It's not that I had much expectation of things being radically different, but somehow I had hoped that by taking things in hand and talking about them, it would break the feeling of inertia, inaction and lassitude that fills the house, but it hasn't. Maybe it's all just in my head and I need a shrink or some anti-depressants. All I know is that I'm back to sitting with my head in my hands and crying without any sort of provocation; that can't be right.

My friend, Shepherdess, tells me that I am a "different person" when I am on my own; by this she means when I am independent and living on my own, not having an isolated moment from time to time. I can't quite elicit from her what's different, but I know it to be true and I rather like the person I can be - someone who is capable and does things for themselves because they know it's the easiest way to get things done. I like the person who used to have a social life and friends who would enjoy popping around for a coffee without the negotiation that seems to happen these days. What I see in the mirror lately fills me with disappointment. I'm capable of so much more, and yet I can't drag it out of myself these days. Maybe I do need a good boot up the bum.