Friday, 4 April 2014
Seeking
Can't make things join up. Fragmented. Dead daffodils. Carbonated Natural English Mineral Water. My house and the things in it. My head and the noises in it. The pasts. The present. Having no idea what to say but wanting to say something. Driving to work and home from work, endless temporary traffic lights, endless passing of the same pubs - The Saw, The Old Packhorse, The New Packhorse. And always G is there, as she was all those months I was trying to cope with the job when it was new and I couldn't sleep. She hovers over every drive to school and much of the drive home. She hovers over everything. And that is alright. But I am not and can't seem to be. I think it's having to work with other people's need and distress and I think ideally I wouldn't be right now. Blessing coming soon - two weeks off. If not for that I would be worried. More worried. Believe me I am seeking out things that help me, heal me. Massage, singing, friends who actually understand. Better for a while, I keep submerging again under the dark waters of despair. Panic.
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2 comments:
Oh dear. Poor you. If sympathy is any help, you certainly have mine. I hope your holidays help towards restoring you. And some sunshine. And maybe some cake.
Sending supportive thoughts your way. Glad you're getting out again.
I wish we had proper pubs here - I find them comforting. The only time I ever had a proper pub was when I lived in Nashville, TN. There was an English family that opened a pub called "The Sherlock Holmes". The second time I walked through the door was at least two weeks after the first time, and the bartender remembered my name. I used to go in there and have wonderful, long conversations with complete strangers that I never saw again. I, or someone else, would sit at the old piano and play while everyone joined in singing. Once four or five of us got up and spontaneously sang "Amazing Grace" together, with no accompaniment, in harmony. None of us had ever met each other before. I had some of the best, most relaxing, most comradely times ever in that pub. And some damn good shepherd's pie, too. Talk about comfort food!
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