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Saturday, 18 March 2017

In which I'm climbing out...

Thanks to my chemical additives, I have, today, clawed my way to the perimeter of the deep black hole in which I've been residing these past weeks...

As long as the brutal jackboot of life doesn't stamp on my fingers , I shall be tentatively lifting my head above the parapet some time later today.

It won't be the head that's generally shown to the world so I'd shield your gaze, if I were you, Dear Reader. Personal grooming has gone down the lavatory of late and I resemble a gentleman of the road. (and very likely smell like one too.)

I say 'gentleman' advisedly since, as you know, Dear Reader the harvesting of super-floo-us hair is now a daily occurrence, or should be, in this case.

I do have a strimmer somewhere in the garden shed so as soon as the precipitation ceases I shall attend to my facial growth and macrame a couple of plant pot holders.

Blimey, I just re-read that last bit and it bordered on amusing. I must be on my way back.

Anyway, never shall I scoff at the depressed, or use that awful dismissive phrase, 'pull yourself together.'


I shall most certainly follow my 'carer' BF's advice...

'Don't stop taking the tablets until things have settled down.'

Ooooh, I feel a bit peckish...

Friday, 17 March 2017

In which I have added chemicals...

Today I shall be mostly trying to act like a normal human being...

There must be suitable gainful employment out there for a broken down old wreck like me.

I haven't eaten enough to keep a fruit fly alive for weeks, but since I have sufficient lard stores about my person to sustain me for months, maybe that's a good thing.

I'm finding it really difficult to accept that there are so many jobs I can no longer do.

Do most people deteriorate slowly, or do they just hit a brick wall like I have?  I don't know.

Living a hand to mouth existence as I have for all of my adult life I don't have the luxury of rainy day funds, but I'm not feeling in the least bit sorry for myself, nor am I bleating away on this diary for any other reason than to record events for my own perusal should things change, either for the better or worse.

I've certainly had an interesting life full of good friends and family.

Laughs are a bit thin on the ground at the moment, but, with my new chemical additives, I am starting to hope for a smidgen of titters in time.

Thursday, 16 March 2017

In which the obit is writ...

Slowly emerging from my current black hole...

I am really struggling with the logic of the person who misrepresented the last debacle in the workplace that I had to abandon.

What  earth was the point in giving an old crock like me a job masquerading as an 'activity organiser' when it was clearly a hands-on care job?

I really did try, too, but 'KNOW YOUR LIMITATIONS WOMAN' is a mantra I shall adhere to forthwith.

What on earth can I do next?

My current source of reference must be on something of a perpetual loop, for goodness sake.

One lesson I have learned, well, two, actually: I can't function without the discipline of full time employment, and I should never have left my job in care in Wivey, no matter how challenging it was.

Here lies One. She made poor decisions and stupid mistakes.

Wednesday, 15 March 2017

In which I am hopeful...

The only way is up...

Finally hit upon a medical solution to my ghastly problems, but the Doctor has been in therapy since my visit.

Have had to accept that there are some things that I can no longer do.

Had I adhered to the old adage 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' I may well have weathered the storm, but, well, Dear Reader, I didn't.

'There's no fool like an old fool' is another soubriquet I would have done well to heed, but having been a fool, young and old, I didn't.

What next?
Here's hoping!

Tuesday, 14 March 2017


Snap out of it.
Pull yourself together.

This has been a long time coming and while I still can, I'll document it so I remember.

Yesterday I sat in silence until it got dark outside.

Silent everywhere except inside my head.

Went to see a doctor, but I don't think pills will do it this time.

Stress, anxiety, panic attacks, severe depression and very high BP

Aged P wants me to go to her to recover. Can't do that.

'Take these tablets. We don't want you to have another stroke.'

Don't we? Would it make it stop?

Monday, 13 March 2017

In which it won't change a thing...

Here I am on another day. Shaking uncontrollably, dry mouthed, head ringing, heart pounding.

Will attempt to get through the day and try to get to see the doctor, who no doubt will pump me full of Prozac and offer a 'talking therapy'

Talking about it won't change anything. I'll still be unemployed, penniless and going out of my mind.

Sunday, 12 March 2017

In which I woke up again...

Good morrow, Dear Reader, are you enjoying your descent into madness with me?

Unfortunately I awoke this morning drenched in perspiration, heart pounding as if to burst from my chest and with the acrid stench of failure and despair playing around my nostrils.

What is happening to me? I haven't ventured from the underground lair for a week now and find myself spending entire days rocking back and forth on the second-hand sofa.

No use to man nor beast, I just sit here watching my thighs grow wider.

Where has that optimistic old trollope gone?
Will I wake up tomorrow and find her again?

The mind is a strange thing. I don't seem to have any control over mine at the moment.

I'm perfectly capable of obtaining employment.  After all I was offered both of the jobs I went for last month, but when it comes to actually doing them, well, we know what happened there, don't we.

So what happens now? I don't have a template for this.