have woken up cross and with what MOMD calls my 'grumpy pants' on. I do not want to get out of bed, and convince myself that as there is a lion on the loose, it is better not to get up, but just to stay here and not encounter the lion of Essex, realising of course that Essex is many hundreds of miles away, but better safe than sorry. Gloom, on reading the news to discover that the lion of Essex turned out to be a large ginger tom cat and that all is well. Try to find other reasons not to get up... I know that the reason I really don't want to get up is that I have to go to heart and soul bearing therapy, and that I really don't want to go... have stern word with myself, and carefully remove foot from under warm and cuddly quilt to see if it is warm enough to get up....bahhh... it is, and I scoot to kitchen to make strong coffee and make pot noodle for breakfast. Ha, the flippin' sun is shining, well that might tempt me out, but still not sure about therapy. It is the last one of the compassionate mind therapies today. I have bought a card for the pyschologists who are running it, but feel I should go buy flowers or something. Then argue that this is their job so why should I? Guess they might expect me to say thank you with flowers and card and end up in muddle. Take coffee and pot noodle back to bed... stuff the sunshine, I am staying here.
Dream of living on a deserted island, just me and endless beaches... but no kettle, no coffee and no pot noodles, huh... dream turns into nightmare, and I decide to arise from from my pit.
Stuff countless pills in mouth and swallow with strong espresso, wait for things to seem better... no, not working.... hmm, maybe if I go and sit on step and have a quick fag, things will appear better, but cigarette makes me feel sick...back to bed, swallow sleeping tablets and give up....there is no pit, there are no dragons, but maybe the most compassionate thing to do is just to give today a miss and wake up tomorrow.