Wessex Weekend

This is the weekend of the Wessex Gathering and I have a ticket to go. I booked it very soon after I got back from the Mercian Gathering last September. I had enjoyed myself so much and felt so good managing to camp and survive in a tent (which I hadn't done for a few years) that I was just bursting to head off to the next gathering.

That feels like such a long time ago. The Gathering started last night and I should have been in my car and heading off there some time in the afternoon. No, I'm not sitting with a laptop in a field in Dorset, I'm still at home. Stupidly, I let that feeling of capability, fun and adventure escape from me and as the weekend approached, the prospect of going became more overwhelming, more fraught with problems than I could manage. I think I'm slipping down the slippery slope of a depression and instead of getting out and doing something that would make me feel better, I have retreated into the house and found all sorts of reasons to prevent me from going.

Work is busy, I have a pile of paperwork related to the houses that I have to sort out, I have spent the day trying to sort out flights for my son so he can visit Ashley and achieved... absolutely nothing from the long list of things I need to get done.

The worst bit is that I feel so useless; worthless and like it's all so bloody pointless. It feels like I'm just such a waste of oxygen and that's not a good place to be. Kim is trying as hard as he can to say the right things, be positive and supportive, but it has to come from within and it ain't.

Anyway, I suppose that at least I haven't been a wet weekend for the WW people who have been brave enough to head off to Wessex, so that's one good thing. Sorry to sound like such a whingeing old windbag, but cheer is eluding me.