and so it came to be that on the 8th of December in the year of two thousand and thirteen, that Dave (the rabbit) and I are sat on the extremely uncomfortable sofa in my sitting room, waiting for the blasted heating to make an impact on the sub-zero temperature the South West of England is currently enduring.
We are slightly concerned. Not by the weather, as that was predicted by the Met Office, but by another of those moral quandaries that sneak in when life was just settling into a comfortable, normal phase (and boy I love those, what a rest from the chaos in my restless brain).
It was my birthday on Thursday, and it was nice, apart from the Norovirus, but hey, apart from the brain shattering headache, my temperature being so high that I felt I was in the mid tropics, the vomiting and upset tummy, it was a good birthday.
I have taken up cross stitch, now I know that I am diverging from the conversation, but I thought it was important to mention, as this is how I am maintaining the status quo. While cross stitching, my brain and hands are busy, so I am not thinking of anything else. I know, you are thinking hell fire, she is only 23 (ahem....45) what is she doing cross stitching? But I am a lot better for it, until last night.
A late birthday card arrived. A card from someone I haven't seen for a long time, Infact, a card from someone I have chosen to not to see for a long time. Why? Because they were horrid to me. The card stated that they would like me to make contact with them again, and left their telephone number. Well, it would seem simple would it not, just not to make contact with them, as 'they were horrid to me', but hell no. Apparently my reaction, which was to drink a large bottle of the finest white plonk the local corner shop had to offer, to phone the mental health helpline, and to cry furiously while sat in the car over looking the sea and contemplating the end of the world, was "wrong". Apparently, that person was not horrid to me, I am just "ILL", I am making "something out of nothing" and that their horrid reaction to me was my fault because I am 'ILL'.
The trouble with recovery, is that my brain is starting to work more and work better; I can argue, with myself, what is right and what just isn't (probably). Later I was told that maybe she had 'changed', well maybe, but maybe I am better off not taking that risk. After all my life has been ok without her (yes, I can hear you at the back laughing...ok, my life hasn't been OK, but her absence hasn't made it any worse!)
Problem one, how can I differentiate between what is a real and valid thought and what is just another of my loonie ravings?
Problem two, I think the thermostat on the heating is buggered.
I am sure that my absence has puzzled many of you who are avid blog readers and writers who find that that blog writing is a cathartic way to deal with lifes ups and downs, but for me I found that to dwell on what had been was unhealthy.... I make a tentative return..... BUT BE WARNED, I AM A LOT BETTER NOW... HEE HEE HEE (that was meant to be one of those slight scary vampirish laughs)
Much love x