"Last night I dreamed I was young again, I was wild-eyed and beau
With a fearless heart that just could not be bought or sold
Time can steal most anything, yeah he's the master thief
He can steal my body, cloud my mind but he won't shake my belief"
(Jason & the Scorchers - Days of Wine and Roses)
I've had a strange week. Last weekend, on Friday night, I was crashing, driving up the road towards Beachy Head at 110mph...for a really dumb, stupid reason as well. I was lying in my bed, curled like an embryo, writing the note in my head.
Somewhere in there a small scratch of sanity made me get on my Cineworld app and book a film Saturday morning - giving me a promise to myself that I would still be there, and a reason to pull away from the sanctuary of the mattress in the morning. From there I managed to stabilise, albeit not at a particularly ecstatic level.
And I've kind of stayed there all week. On a scale of one ten, the dial has probably been stuck around four all week. But, despite the core mood being in the tank, I haven't had a bad week. I was quite productive at work. I've been reading on the train and outside work, which is a good sign - despite it helping me enormously, it's one of the first things I lose motivation to do when I'm low. I've even roused myself to start planning and writing some sketchy ideas I have for novels, and work on some of my existing short stories. Again, despite the fact that I love the creative process, I haven't written anything in months.
Yesterday was a bit of an unholy aberration - took me until about 2pm to have a shower (cold, cause our water heater is a-broke), and until 3 to drag myself kicking and screaming out the door and down to the library. Which didn't even really help, last night I could feel the swamp forming around me again, and the quicksand starting to stir under my feet. So I pulled the same trick and got up early this morning to go the gym. 2km, a hot changing room shower and a Starbucks Orange Mocha later, and I was sufficiently motivated to annihilate the washing up, clean the kitchen, and email my mum to keep her off my back for a while.
Not all rosy and flush though - Wednesday is my last counselling session. I'm stunned how torn up I am. It's almost like a break up. It's not that I'm attracted to my counsellor or anything - I suppose it's just that in terms of opening up and confiding in someone, you build up a similar level of trust to a relationship. Which is mighty rare in my case.
Anyway, I'm fairly sure I've prattled on for long enough to bore the pants off everyone, so I shall gracefully withdraw...hope you are all having a good day.