annanotbob's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I know I've got to find some kind of peace of mind So here I am on Word, not knowing if I’ll get back online as it keeps kicking me off. There’s only one neighbour now with unprotected internet and the signal is weak. I guess I might have to go to one of the pubs tomorrow that have wifi. I think that means that I can take my laptop with its wireless card and just get on with it – that might be fun come to think of it. Anyway, what I am proud of today is this: when it was my turn to speak at the book group I started with, ‘As a person with mental health problems, I think…’ Well, to be honest it went downhill from there as I’d forgotten precisely what Ben fuckwit Elton had written that made me feel so persecuted and shameful, and I hadn’t actually known that was going to come out of my mouth, but hey, I’m bonkers. The not so good part was being discovered in a state by Marion’s father-in-law who was there painting one of the bedrooms. This was earlier, before the rest of them got there, when I was preparing the food. I was doing couscous and roast veg and couldn’t find the scales to measure out the couscous. I started feeling shaky when I really couldn’t find the scales – I knew Marion must have some as she makes cakes sometimes, and you need to weigh ingredients for cakes. I later discovered they were in the utility room, but in the meantime I got in a state in case they were in front of my eyes and I just wasn’t seeing them, then calmed down and decided to make all the couscous using the instructions on the packet. It was a 500 gm packet and for 200 gm you needed 7 fluid oz of liquid. (This is the same system by which I buy a metre length of 36” wide fabric). I couldn’t work out how much liquid I needed for the whole packet. The shakiness returned, tenfold, but I did a bit of the relaxing breathing and went outside for a fag, with the instructions, paper and pen. No good. I couldn’t stay calm enough to write anything down, because all I could think was that my brain had just fucked off and left me. I was top set maths at school, in a grammar school. I loved it – simultaneous equations, geometry, all that shit, I could just do it. I knew I could do this fucking elementary sum, but I couldn’t, I didn’t know where to start and it’s just so so so scary when that happens, because it immediately makes me wonder what else I’m not getting that isn’t so clear and quantifiable. John, the FIL, was great, thank god and talked me through the sum as if it was really, really hard then scarpered back upstairs quick, which somehow did get me back together enough to do all the rest of it.
I should probably record that I'm now taking sleeping pills every night. I keep thinking I ought to try and go without but knowing I can take a pill and turn myself off at will is too much to resist. I had a lot more to say and I wanted to comment and respond to lovely notes and things, but this connection is too flickering. I will go to the pub tomorrow and catch up, deffo. Happy days, dear ones, happy days. xxx |7:25 a.m. - 02/01/1990 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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