It's been a crap week where it's been too hard to think to write and it's not going to get any better. I've been thinking of closing down the blog for a while to give me a chance to either have the breakdown that's hovering or getting some counselling which I hate doing. I always lie to the counsellors, I can't help it, I just can't open up to some stranger any more than I can to friends.
I try not to bother friends at all.
I know what's wrong, I just don't know how to fix it and deep down I believe that it is unfixable.
For one thing I blame the weather, I haven't been this cold for years.
I can't blame Ma, she's having a ball in spite of oldies dropping off the twig left, right and centre.
It must be nice to be medicated up to the eyeballs with morphine.
Too much time at the home is pushing my empathy button too the limit. How do you stop your self from thinking "I'd hate this, I'd really hate this" and then go ahead to make someone's day a bit easier instead of turning around and walking out. My sister can do this, walks through and never looks to right or left.
The point is I want to do that, I want to walk out and not be thinking of what I can bring on the next visit for someone. I spent yesterday filling a pretty bag with barely used nail polish for one lady who had a stroke at 50 and has been in there for 12 years. She has beautiful nails and the girls always make sure she has a manicure. I'm not telling you this to make myself out to be a saint but this is how I can't stop helping in spite of the fact that I want to go away and never look back.
Today had another memory creep up when I went to vote at the school. I went back to the '75 election. Up at 4 a.m. to get the banners in the best spot, our job as we were the closest to the school. It was an ugly election and people were ugly about it. As I walked through all I could see was my kid, everywhere was another part of him and I felt bits breaking off me until I could leave, never to darken the doorway until the next election.
Earlier in the week, I had a slap down from a neighbour who has been doing this kind of thing for over 30 years. She is a master at the soft voice with the iron piss-off wrapped in it. I had jokingly told her husband about the fall and said I nearly rang his number for him to come and pick me up. Now that is a joke since he is about six inches shorter than me and if I was hurt I'd be ringing the ambos. Next time I pick up the phone there is a message from the wife. They go to bed early and take the phone off the hook so they're not disturbed but she'll give me the number just in case, and the mobile number. She'll be in to speak to me at some stage about it. In other words, we'll help but not if we can get out of it and we don't answer the phone anyway.
So the heart of it all is that I am alone but not yet alone enough to deal with being alone.