growing impatient with myself

I’m feeling thoroughly sick of myself. I can’t shake off this feeling of hopelessness. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what I want.

Part of me thinks, why not sell Mum’s house with its annoying tenant in place, who cares if that means selling cheap, then I’d be free of it. I haven’t the strength right now to fight off a cold, let alone battle social services, Devon County Council and everyone else who messed up. I could really use a friend, somebody close so that I could pop round for half an hour.

This has really brought home to me just how alone I am. When John’s here, which he has been rather a lot this past few weeks as I couldn’t cope on my own, he annoys me and I want him to go. When he’s gone, I feel completely lost and can’t settle. The blasted weather doesn’t help. If I stick my nose outside, it starts chucking it down with rain.

I’ve started thinking about moving house. It’s what I do when I can’t cope with life, as though a change of address would give me a new start. I know it doesn’t work – I’ve tried it far too many times already – but it would at least give me something to focus on.

I feel as though I’m lost in a fog and it’s really making me cross. I hate feeling like this. I have no patience with myself. Anyone else, fine, they can drift about for weeks when they’re ill or grieving but I don’t give myself the same space.

The fact is I’m scared of turning into my mother. She loved to be the centre of attention and would tell people all her troubles, real or made up, in order to get the attention she craved. It’s given me this morbid fear of making a fuss when I’m in trouble. Stiff upper lip and all that. What happened to the days when neighbours looked out for each other? The only time my next door neighbour has started a conversation since my mother died was when he wanted to complain about the rain running off my garden.

Now I’m cross with myself for moaning.

I know I have to get through this by myself and that even though the tunnel is long, there must be a light at the end of it somewhere but I’m worn out after last year’s problems.  It does get better, doesn’t it? Soon?

I know there are lots of lovely kind people out there and some of you have been really good to me lately. Thinking about all of you makes me feel worse as though I’m letting everybody down by feeling this way. Please don’t give up on me just yet. I’m doing the best I can.