Feeling blue and hating myself for it.

I am fed up. With life. With myself. With feeling like an old woman. My joints are giving me so much trouble right now and I have no idea why. I’m hoping it’s because I’m stirring things up by starting therapy again and  trying homeopathy.

The problem is I have lost faith. I’ve tried so many ways to fix myself that I no longer believe anything will work and we all know  what that means – if you think it, that’s what will happen.

I received an anonymous gift yesterday. A book, a pad and some other little bits (sorry, I can't eat the fudge so I will have to give it to John). The book’s about animals so I'm sure to enjoy it. I’d like to say a massive thank you to whoever it was.

 Often it’s the kindness of strangers that keeps me going. I still think of my birthday and all the cards I got from people I’d never met. That meant a lot to me, so whoever this anonymous gift giver is, thank you.

About writing. I’ve been writing stories but they’re not coming out right. They’re flat and full and not very good at all. It’s not writers block – I can write, I just can’t write well enough. It’s all down to my mood. If I rated how I feel on a scale of one to ten where ten is very happy and one is very miserable, to write fiction I need to be at level 6. That’s not high, just above average, but at the moment it might as well be the top of Mount Everest.  Sorry for sounding so miserable but as you know I’d rather be honest about things.  I’m finding it so hard to decide what I want to do. I could fill up my life with voluntary works and trips away, join more groups and go out more. I could get a dog, or two. The problem is that I hate to let anyone down. I wouldn’t want to start voluntary work and decide after a few months that it’s not for me  which also explains why I can’t get a dog.

What I want to do is feel free and happy, free to do the things I want to do (write upbeat stories, paint, have a long relaxing holiday, listen to music, have fun, mix with positive upbeat people, play tennis on the Wii) but for some reason I can’t seem to do any of these. Instead I fill my days with things that aren’t fun. I can’t go into details here for reasons I may explain later, if I ever find the nerve to take action, but suffice to say I’m not enjoying life at the moment. Maybe that’s what making me feel physically ill. I’m trying Gestalt therapy at great expense. What if that doesn’t work either?

If I wasn’t me. If I was my best friend, then I could give myself a proper talking to. Say the right words of encouragement. Offer great advice that made sense and was easy to do. I could also look at my stories and see where and why they aren’t working (I can stil do that for other people as easily as falling off a log) but I’m not my best friend.

My ‘best friend’ would say stop worrying so much about other people, about letting them down, about upsetting them, and start doing what you want for a change.

Maybe one day I’ll wake up and everything will feel different. I still believe that’s possible so there is hope.

Tomorrow I’ve been given tickets to go to Harrogate flower show (thanks, Janet). I’m having trouble walking at the moment but I’m still going, even if it’s only for a couple of hours. I’m hoping I can find somebody to sort out part of my garden, two parts in fact. Tomorrow is September 14^th. Sixteen long years ago, that was the day I lost Gareth, my third husband. I always try to make it a special day so going to a flower show is a good idea. I might even buy a plant in his memory.

Again, sorry for being so down. I AM working on the problem. I will get it sorted, soon.