I failed the 'ring a friend' test.

I didn't ring my old work colleague, I'm toying with the idea of sending a card.  Why can't I ring?  I've always been the same, and to my lifelong shame there are some important letters I never answered.  I feel the sting cross my skin when I think of them.  Okay, enough of that. 

Nip rumination in the bud.

Saturday was a very low mood day,  lots of crying to myself.  But I went for a 15 minute walk that involved 100 yards jog!  Felt horribly fat, wobbly, unfit and tired.  It took longer to struggle into my anti bounce bra than walk around the block.   Came in very close to calories - calorie watching courtesy of Weigh Loss Resources.  Yesterday my mood was good, first time for weeks, my head felt clear, and I had some energy, did a little pruning.  It was good to get out into the garden.  Managed a 30 minute brisk walk this time.  Shared half a bottle of wine with E, which meant I was well over calories, but still under maintenance.  If I can lose some weight before we embark on our trip to France, I will feel better about myself.

Dragging myself up by my bootstraps

I need to do something to help myself out of the depression I'm in.  I don't want to go to the doc, I can't face the explaining.  Explaining something I feel guilty about, something that sounds pretty feeble, and something I know I can help by my own actions.  Actions the GP will only ask me to do anyway, so I may as well start.  It's stopping the downward spiral, putting the brakes on; slowing down the descent.  Slowing it, then stopping it, then reversing and building up again.  I have no energy, no interest, no spark of light or life.  And feel so damn useless and pathetic about wasting my life.. Life is a gift, and I waste hours, days, weeks;  just existing.  Avoiding, avoiding, running away.


I heard an alcoholic in remission talking on the radio the other day about the 'escape', running away from the place you are in and the relationships you have.  He talked of it being part of the addict's identifying traits.  I think I have it to, I'm not an addict, but the response to run, hide is strong.  Now I am older I control the urge, I do have a strong enough 'sensible' bit of my brain to realise that running away won't work.  I also have a pretty big materialistic bit of me that would avoid putting me in a less well-off situations, regardless of what it costs me emotionally.  And I know, that I will still be me wherever I am and with whoever I am with.  That won't change.   Not that I'm rich you understand but okay financially, compared to a lot of pensioners.

So, I am going to write this blog for me, it is private, it won't be listed or searchable.

I need to do one thing today, one thing that challenges depressive mode.

I had a 'new home' card from an old work colleague in the week, I need to ring her.  I don't want to ring,  it isn't that I don't like her, I am just nervous about ringing.  I don't know what the feeling is, well, not true, I know the feeling is fear, but I don't understand why fear?  What do I fear?

Yes. I have fear.  But where does it come from, what am I fearful of?????

British Wool Week

I spent 9 hours in Glastonbury Town Hall yesterday, spinning for the 'Sheep to Shawl' challenge.  We did it, but it was very very hard going.  While we were waiting for the fleece to arrive the conversation went like this -

'Do you know what fleece it is?'
'No, as long as it's not a Shetland.'
'Oh, no, we don't want a Shetland'
'I told them, anything, but not a Shetland'
'Good'
'No, you can't do Shetland "in the grease"'.
'Why not?'
'Tips'
'Oh'
'They get dirty, and stick together and it's a Mother's own job to get them apart unless you soak'
 'Never had a Shetland I could spin straight off'
'Nor me, 'orrible.'
'Here it comes!'

The town's Chairman delivers the newly shorn fleece to us with due ceremony ....ta da!

It's Shetland.

My fingers are still sore, but the shawl looked surprisingly good in the end, draped, still damp around P's shoulders.  The spinning and knitting was hard.  Hard to get any sort of decent yarn,  I was pulling the tips off (they were muddy, and stuck together as predicted) then carding, into some poor rolags.  The knitters only had bamboo needles and the yarn gripped and refused to slip along easily.    We didn't get the fleece until 10.30, and had finished spinning by about 4.30 so had 6 hours solid spinning, blimey, no wonder we were all tired. 

And I forgot my camera, but other's took loads of pictures so maybe I can pinch one.  There seem to be lots of official ones being taken of us spinners and knitters, and not for the first time I wished I had managed to lose the stone I am supposed to be losing.