A better day

So I feel improved. Chest continues to feel like I've been trampled by horses when I inhale but I don't seem to be too bothered. Co-codamol's nice like that. To summarise...

The day started with complete & utter overwhelming desperation & tearful outbursts around 5am, followed by catatonic crisis & stream of conciousness chaos thoughts distracted by news of fresh allegations against the shell suit pederast. I was dragged out of it by the awakening of my cherished two, being bullied to take tablets & me begging to be allowed to tidy up just so I could feel at least a little bit useful.

I did a bit of reading around, looking for answers, motivation, the sort of guff that I have no trouble telling other people.

Start small they all said. So I managed to shower, brush teeth & get dressed by degrees. The old pressures around getting dressed have returned. Each decision about clothing combinations a tip toe into the minefield. The wardrobe a warzone. A step in the wrong direction could trigger an anxiety explosion powerful enough to shred limbs. This has been creeping up on me for a while. I should have been concious of it when I started consulting Sharon about my choice of tie every morning. This is good, this reflecting; picking up on the signs I've missed.

Go outside they said. Be among nature. Nature is lacking round here so I hung the towels on the washing line & had a look at the fuschias. I resolved to go for a walk later.

Family returned & we talked about the house & what we need to do & I could feel the pressure building in my chest & I didn't want it. I absolutely did not want it to come back & piss all over the good things I'd managed to do so far.

Take control they said. Small steps they said. Anticipate little victories they said. I declared war on a book case. Everything I'm unlikely to read again was to go to the charity shop. Sharon acted as censor preventing any potential donations that would lead to charity shop volunteers making a not altogeter incorrect assumption about our deviance from going into the charity shop bags. Books saved were all the Sallingers, Dorothy Parker, anything with Bowie on the cover, anything with Genesis P Orridge in, all the  Ballards, anything with Robert Smith on the cover, my big Wilde bible, Complete Sherlock box, Billy Burroughs, all my Re-Search books, Mr Crisp & my beloved tatty copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

Control taken.

We had right good giggle at the school photo's I found stashed among the paperbacks & cooed at Figgis baby snaps.

I found two Cd's with about 8000 photo's on that I thought I'd lost so they were put onto the new laptop.

We managed a walk to the fair. I was on a roll by this point. Even though I felt awful nothing was going to stop me. Chest pain nobbled me though so I came back on my own early, via the chippy.

Eat healthy they said. At home I indulged in the hugest portion of chips, two cheese & onion patties & mushy peas. I can't be expected to get everything right.

I am now enjoying the giddy high that only excess fat & carbohydrate can achieve. The Fall are on the radio. A Sisters of Mercy special has been on while I've been typing this. A perfect end to a day that has had much more good than bad. I needed one of those days. It's been a long time coming.