Sat here on bed with muffled head, hankies and a cup of tea. Beloved Husband is downstairs it seems with heating on full blast so am roasting up here…
Moaning! well if you can’t moan in a journal, where can you moan.
This week has been a bit of a journey from the lows of a hellish Sunday to this inconvenient cold that began Tuesday. And I’ve had my first week working in well, about 8 years or so. Only for an hour a day, but it is enough. Bet you are laughing now if you do full time and do loads of shifts! But yes, it’s enough.
Also sent out an ebook of mine on short stories, only had one to feedback yet so it must not be a “stintilatingly” good read. Unless like me their weeks have been like well, weeks you would rather forget.
Beloved had a major down on Sunday and refused food, drink and medication.
I do feel like someones stuffed me in my washing machine, put me on one of those extensive sports washes, and left me in there and the machine has just kept on washing me so I’m all kind of upside down, inside out and well and truly knocked about.
Hey ho. It would be nice even to have a kind word but that for the last few days has not been forthcoming. It will pass. These things pass. We get to Beloved Husband again soonish. Then it will all go well, like the cycle on a washing machine.
I am sure our hearts store our soul you know. Because I had a Step Dad with terminal cancer, and he was never like this. It seems it’s normality with the h.f.
But for now, refuge is in bed, with the lap top, and hot tea. And wall paper of Paris and pink and cream roses; butterflies and birds.
Paris in the summer time! We should be walking hand in hand along the Parisian canals maybe. Or going for a long walk in our wellies with our dog in the country. Or getting in the car and going on a 2 hour trip to see my brilliant grandson play football. Or even cleaning the house out together.
I long for the time when I felt safe and secure again. But that went. It went in May this year with the diagnosis. And it was a feeling that for me was so short. I’ve never had that feeling till I met Beloved. Well not since I was a teenager dating First Boyfriend who was brilliant. Since then, all the years in between, there has been fun and happiness. But that feeling you get with someone that you care for and they you, and it speaks “hey you don’t have to worry. I’m here now”.
That’s gone. I don’t think it will come back ever again. The heart doesn’t function properly.
There. It just doesn’t function. Not in the way it used to.
But then I’m a tough old bird and am used to starting life over and over. So go on. Chuck us the lemons and the sugar and I’ll make some lemonade to stash in the pantry with the summer sun and the promise of spring that lies yet undiscovered in them jams I made earlier.