Where to begin, where do these words go as I fling them out into the great unknown. Where am I coming from; my anxiety has now veered close to the territory of a fully fledged reactive depression. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not fully swamped by the dreary bland emptiness of depression, nor have I fully entered into despair, more an air of despondency, accompanied by the return of random tear flow (my posts ‘A FruitfulMisery’ and the penultimate paragraph of ‘An Overshadowing of Events’ will put this into context).
I am so fortunate in having such a large number of DVDs and CDs to watch and listen to, as well as a modest vinyl album collection, to enjoy or be distracted by. I am also blessed with a large selection of books to browse (my stamina levels only allow for a quite limited period of serious reading) to inform and/or entertain myself but, unfortunately these compensate very little for the amount of time I spend overwhelmed by a sense of ‘aloneness’ - loneliness not solitude.
My beloved OH, has had her operation (last Wednesday) and seems to be making good progress, according to reports from my step-daughters who have been visiting her at the LGI. It seems she will shortly be discharged from the hospital, but then the long recuperation means she will be spending the first part of this process with her elder daughter in a more appropriate environment than home with me. That’s where my sense of uselessness and failure kicks in.