I had a good day today. Hunting bears, lunch on top of South Head, watching the sun set as my Guides ran around a farm. Fresh air and exercise and hills make it easier to cope.
But now reality’s kicked in, and I have the worst rising panics, which I’m entirely failing to talk myself down from. Because I just can’t see any end in sight. It’s Thursday night, which means it’s nearly Friday, which means it’ll be the weekend and I’ll be trapped in the house with him, and nowhere to go to escape (whoa, just watch that cascade of negativity…)
Monday morning is a very long way off, right now. And, y’know, I used to live for the weekends. I want to be able to enjoy my free time, and my children. I want Friday afternoon to mean freedom once more.
In my head, I’m back on a beach. (I am so lucky, having a summer’s worth of memories to choose from. I do realise that. But right now, it’s not working.)
Walking up the Northumberland coast, all alone through the mist.
Listening to the seals.
That tranquil afternoon on the coral beaches.
One of many glorious sunsets. I’m still not tired of sunsets…
Swimming alone, looking right out to Harris, Lewis and the Uists.
The pictures aren’t working. I can’t even believe I’m the same person who went to those places. Tonight, I can’t find any courage or optimism or drive… can’t organise myself, or snap out of it, or make plans… can’t do anything but cry and panic, to be honest, it’s a bit pathetic really. I just don’t want my life to be like this. Welcome to my pity party.
I think this one may fit best. Storms ahead.