Didn't someone once say 'april is the cruellest month'? Can't think who. You didn't know that you were reading the words of the most illiterate literature student of the mid-eighties did you?!
No picture today. Sorry. I have been trying really hard but I have nothing to illustrate today's post. I know. It's just not good enough.
The water and the clearing/sorting angles of projectforty are working quite well. I've been sketchbooking and sorting out all sorts of materials over the Easter weekend to make it easier for me to squeeze a little bit of creativity into the everyday. Now my freetime is squeezed, I need to plan it in to avoid filling it with non-essential practices such as cleaning and cooking. I have NRH to do that now.
I'm now at the point where I could actually go into my room and draw/sew/paint/write/make without having to work out where I'd left my notebook and relocate wool. I'd be very excited if I wasn't experiencing a slightly woolly sensation between my ears or streamy eyes.
I think I have some kind of lurg. I think it might be French. I know its bearer will be upset that the flurg now has a hold in Wiltshire but I think it may be a good thing. I feel the need for an extended period of sofa leave and a proper lurg is just the kind of excuse that will make such an event possible.
The last six months have been grim and sad and not very happy. They have taken their toll. Without going into the daily details, I find myself a little lost and unable to deal with what I suspect is simply grief. Perhaps I shouldn't write about such stuff on this blog. I am supposed to be a little bit funny, not sad at all. I'm supposed to be encouraging myself to be practically positive in every single way.
The truth of the matter is that a bit more fruit and veg and a lot less caffeine can't deal with some eventualities. Sometimes we've just got to accept that we can't change everything. Sometimes its just a case of waiting until the sad times pass without becoming too upset.
There is hope, however and I'm not at the point of total despair. I've been sad before but it was quite a while ago. I managed then and I'm sure I'll manage now. It might just take a little time.
I do, however, think I need a little help. The last time I was very sad I had some counselling and it was fantastic. The things I learnt then kept me fine and dandy for about 12 years. Not bad for six hour sessions in a cold damp office just off the south circular. I dipped into the local counselling service recently, just to see what's on offer. I think thresholds have risen. I'm not sure what state I would have to be in to access the same service and I haven't got the patience to try.
So...am going to try a little self-help. While I was clearing out articles and pictures and clippings I'd torn out from magazines since 1998, I came across a piece about Dorothy Rowe who's book on depression has been reprinted recently. She seemed like an eminently sensible woman on paper so I dropped into our tiny local library today to order the book, just on the offchance that her advice might be useful. It was on the shelf. I've brought it home. I have high hopes.
As I was there, I had a little browse. Other titles now on my kitchen table:
- the history of wiltshire woollen mills
- how green are my wellies
- watercolour pencils and how to use them
- shoot the damn dog (a memoir of depression, borrowed on the grounds that someone else's sadness might cheer me up)
- madness - a bipolar life (see above)
- cute knits for kids
- ultimate ski resorts
These will keep me busy whilst J is wading through 'Lord of the Rings' on DVD (again) and preparing himself for an evening of telly football. I think my library hoard is going to be very useful.