There is nothing more lonely than listening to the rain hammering down onto the slanted roof beneath which I’m laying on my sofa yet again. I have made this day difficult Friends have offered to come over or asked me to go for some food. I cannot do either. I prefer my own company even though I’m difficult to be with. I have stopped eating again. I have a very poor body image at the moment.
However, it’s not all bad. I’ve signed up to a mental health college and I have a joint visit from the mental health team tomorrow.
Try as I might I cannot stop thinking of the past and it’s a continual deep ache in my soul. I will try harder tomorrow. I couldn’t put my current state any better than Will Shakespeare;
When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came to man's estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.
A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day.
My sister once told me, the past is another country , live in the one you live in now, of course I didn’t understand then what she was going on about. I have found with various therapy sessions and mental health teams that the past can never be eradicated but it can be made lesser, every now and again I have a relapse And sink into the abyss , with help and understanding I pull myself out, I am very visual and see it like a well deep and dark full of holes but those holes become hand and feet stirrups to help me work my way up, hands reach down to haul me up. I look up and see…
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