annanotbob's Diaryland Diary
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When we went to the beach the other day, after we swam, while I was sitting under my umbrella yakking to Jane, Sara walked along the high tide line picking up treasure:
Group today. Session three on anger, a right fucking can of worms, especially as I missed last week. Aw man. The first week got stuck on a few people being astounded at the concept of anger and violence being separate: that it's even possible for there to be anger without someone getting hurt. While they explored that, I drifted off into a horrible contemplation of my behaviour when the kids were little. Again and again, in a loop, I'd gradually get so wound up that I had to break something to diffuse it. Plates and crockery to start with, until another single parent got me onto smashing milk bottles out on the path, which was less expensive - free in fact. Several times I put my fist through a window - one of our windows. We spent a whole winter with a patchwork of plastic bags keeping the wind out of the living room as I couldn't afford a glazier. This would happen every few months (I think, I hope not more often), for quite a few years, till I hit on the idea of the emergency valium, to be taken at such moments for a different kind of release.
For literally years at a time, I manage to forget that I did all this, yet for the kids who were all under ten, it must remain a vivid memory of their childhood, one that I don't take into account very often. Ah well. I remember it now, although I can't remember anything about this morning's session except that it was exhausting.
I went for a swim because my new affirmation is 'I live a healthy and creative life' and that means swimming. I booked qi gong for Friday, but I can't do yoga this week as I'm off to Dorset tomorrow. Under duress. Maria is complaining of neglect and I have no real idea why I haven't been down there once this year - nothing to offer against the suggestion that I can't be arsed. So it's this week, before the kids break up and they all go off round the country in their camper van, bastards.
Jesus, and it's quarter past two and I'm off in the morning so I'd better go to bed.
Sweet dreams.
|1:21 a.m. - 07/07/2009
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