Hello readers. I want to bring you all up to date with ‘where I’m at‘. No responses required.
I have put this on my web site but I don’t think anyone reads it apart from the two devotees (NZ,UK).
First things first. If we were an old Italians/Greeks group living in the same suburb, same street I would visit you all every day without exception. Avoiding you is not a need. But , we don’t and that’s okay. No one needs to feel bad or guilty or any of those other silly English emotions.
Second (but actually first), I am incapable of describing the affect that losing my partner had on me, and still has. At least if she had died I would have a grave I could visit every day and talk to her. The pain of the loss has gone but the emptiness left behind is very real. The devil on my right shoulder keeps wishing I had never met her, the one on the left is constantly hopeful of an invite for coffee. This is incessant, 24/7. I am sure some highly qualified smartie would call it unhealthy obsession and me as certifiable.
Covid has been the icing on the cake. Choirs provided some social interaction and the very real chance of seeing ‘the ex‘. GONE!!
Tango provided a much loved social interaction. Something purely for me. Physical contact doing something beautiful that I was good at and I loved. GONE!!
I know I am not mentally healthy. In my isolation I have devolved into a recluse. I hide inside my disgusting shoebox with no desire to venture out. I am not consciously afraid of the outside but I have no incentive to go there. My living space has reduced to the ‘living room’ and bathroom. I sleep on the couch and I don’t mean folded out. Just on the couch under a doona and arctic fleece to protect the doona. The bedroom and my thousand dollar bed are just a storeroom I walk through on the way to the bathroom. The bed is covered with a metre high pile of clothes and jackets and boxes. I have not slept in it since March. I wear only jeans, tee shirt and jocks. One set on and one in the wash.
I wear the same clothes for a week possibly two. I don’t mean I put them on every day for two weeks, I stay in them from the moment I put them on to the moment I put them in the washing machine. I shower and shave when I change clothes.
I go to a friend’s empty house once or twice a week to look for any of my mail and put her mail inside. I leave my den begrudgingly. I should be walking for mental health and physical health. My diabetic state demands I walk, at least, but I cant be bothered bending over to do up the running shoe laces. (Note: I have just bought the makings for elastic laces.)
I would die for the chance to hold my two little girls and I am so sorry I missed their birthday.
Visits to anyone? I cant afford it. Closest relations, Ballarat and Castlemaine. $40 dollars for fuel for a few hours visit. Plus the effort of 4 hours driving. “Catch a train“, “it’s free on weekends” and it’s almost always train replacement. I hate coaches. Sorry. Love you both but….
NSW. 12 hours overnight, no problems. To drive, $300 fuel. To train, again bloody coach replacements. The return journey in February was hell.
Apparently the NSW border reopens on November 23 or 25, depending on where you read it. That is only 1 month from Xmas. I want to share Xmas with Gkids. I will leave all traveling until then. Mode of transport will be decided closer to the time. If I have built up enough credit on my card I will drive up. And I’ll get a tent from somewhere.
I could go on and on and on, misery me, but it would be boring. I have spent my life doing for others, selfishly of course, but none the less doing for others. It was my identity. Without it I was/am nothing. It has brought me to where I am. Penniless except for the state handouts. That upsets some (daughter?) but I have to accept it. All my money went to a good cause, helping others and pleasing me.
So please bear with me. I am learning to do for myself. Not be selfish but no longer selfless. I know you care enough about me to understand. Don’t you?
Love to you all.