Tomorrow’s another day

Today wasn’t great. I woke up feeling rubbish and really struggled to get out of bed. I went on a dog walk, had breakfast and then forced myself to go to the gym. I stayed there for over an hour just to kill time.

I got home and the postman had been. There was something in the post from work that I needed for my accountant for my tax return, so I decided to send that off – my tax stuff is something I’d been wanting to sort out since April, but I’d needed this particular document. I should have felt a sense of achievement in finally sorting it, but I just felt flat.

One of my friends texted whilst I was dealing with the stuff from the accountant – she said she was going to see a mutual friend this afternoon who’s had a hip replacement and has had a setback. I jumped at the chance to get out of the house. Days seem very long when you’re depressed.

It struck me how similar my plight is to my friend who’s had the hip op. He’s confined to his house and is bored, lonely, frustrated and desperate to get back to normal. I can relate to that.

My youngest daughter arrived at tea time which lifted my mood. We watched a film together. In my depressed state I’m already thinking of the fact that she’s only here temporarily and she’ll soon be going back to her dad’s – the house she thinks of as home because that’s where she grew up. She was tearful when she got here today and we hugged and she told me how hard it was to keep going between me and her dad. How will we ever adjust and get used to it?

Oh well. Tomorrow is another day. Let’s see what it brings.

Pleased with myself

This morning I woke feeling terrible as I had an appointment booked with my therapist/counsellor at 11am and I really didn’t want to go.

I dragged myself out of bed at 8am and took the dog for a walk and then didn’t know what to do with myself while I waited for the time to leave for the appointment. I felt so low and hopeless.

However, I did go to the appointment. I’d been dreading talking through everything with my therapist. I’ve been trying not to cry all week and I knew I’d cry. When I got there I felt awful but as we talked I felt my mood lift – like a cloud dispersing.

Straight after the appointment I decided to make the most of the change in mood, so I went for a swim. On the way back I dropped in at the clinic near my house and booked in with a physio for next week – I need to get my leg sorted so I can run again. I miss running so much. At the moment I can run a short distance about once a week, but right now the back of my knee is sore. I need it fixing.

Taking advantage of my lifted mood this afternoon I helped my daughter move into her new flat. I came home and made myself a nice tea.

I’m currently watching a movie on Netflix.

I never expected today to turn out so well. I woke up feeling so awful. It just goes to show that even if I wake up feeling totally crap the day can still turn out well.

A better day

I kept myself busy today.

If I was my normal self today’s activities would have been easy, but in my depressed state everything required extra effort.

I dragged myself out of bed at 8am after lying listening to the radio for an hour – I was actively listening though and not dozing too much.

Then I dragged myself on a 20 minute dog walk and even went swimming before I had breakfast. I’m well proud of myself for that achievement – I swam my usual 50 lengths and even enjoyed it.

Then I walked to Costa to meet friends for coffee – a 15 minute walk each way. Some other friends came round to see me this afternoon.

By 6pm I was exhausted but still had to cook tea for one of my daughters who came round to check up on me, to have tea with me and watch some Netflix.

It’s been a good day.

It was hard to keep going but I’ve done it.

Onwards and upwards and all that.

Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

New horizons

I’ve been getting feelings of emptiness and loneliness for the past few weeks now, so rather than feeling sorry for myself I’ve done something about it. I reached out to a friend who separated from her husband a few years ago and we went out for supper.

I told her about an idea I’d had to set up a local social group for single people and she thought it was a great idea.

So, I’ve started by messaging all the

Facebook friends that I know who are single to invite them to join. I’ve had 2 replies. So our new group has been born – just 4 of us so far. It’s a start.

Loneliness

4 months ago today I walked out on my husband. I know it was the right thing to do, but it has not been easy.

Over the past few weeks I have been feeling increasingly lonely and I’m craving for an intimacy that I never even had.

I’m craving for someone to share my day with, someone to confide in. My husband never was that someone. It isn’t him that I miss, but the dream of what I wished he had been.

He never did listen to me. I remember once when we’d only been together for a short time he joked that I was just background noise; that should have been a warning.

Over the last few years of our pointless marriage he didn’t listen to me at all. Also there was no respect and there was no trust.

I’m writing this blog to remind me why I left. When you feel alone, and lonely, it is tempting to think that maybe you could go back. Maybe things would be better. Maybe it’s better the devil you know.

No way. No bastard way. I’ve already wasted almost half my life with the wrong man. He is one leopard that will never change his spots.

Maybe it’s time I started looking for other fish in the big wide sea.

Freedom

It made me smile today when I noticed my ironing board in the garage. I bought it, brand new, 2 months ago, and it’s still in the plastic wrapping that it came in.

Before I met my husband I rarely ironed anything, and then within a few months of being together I had somehow been hoodwinked into a thankless routine of ironing a pile of clothes every 2-3 days. He soon realised I was pretty crap at ironing trousers so he continued to do those himself, but I became tricked into taking on the traditional female role of ironing his shirts, at least 6 of the damn things every week.

I have taken a photo of my lovely ironing board, still in its wrapper. It is a symbol of my freedom.