hiding

painting supervisor

Checking for spots that need touch ups, keeping me company and every now and then busting out into a little parkour action - he must keep on practicing because Madge might call at any time. My most excellent cat - my comfort & joy, my little shadow - sweetest Oliver

The skies are dark and grey, the wind is whipping through the tree branches, rain has just begun, the air is much cooler and it's a stormy early morning here in this little village. I'm feeling overwhelmed. Anxious and afraid. Too much going on in my quiet, safe and little insular life. I can handle a lot, I've had to over the years - to just deal with stuff as it comes along but that doesn't mean I don't dread much of it, that I don't close my eyes and hope for the time when it, whatever big bad it it might be, will all be over. There's only so much room on my anxious plate and if it becomes too crowded on that plate I freeze up and panic. Panic turns into sadness and fear. I become inactive, exhausted and I shut down. All those little things (and they are mostly little things) become monsters in my head, they pile up onto each other, into a tall menacing beast of too many little things. And I don't know what to do. So I try and hide as best I can and wait ... until this storm passes. It's how I've spent a good part of my life, layin' low, hiding, waiting for the next storm to pass.

I can wear fleece today - hooray

MLou (who's due to arrive Wed - July 1st along with husband L. and their caravan of love and tools and perfect companionship) has just removed a giant wedge of anxiety pie from my plate. She's shuffled things around a bit ... moved that one little thing over just a titch and suddenly my plate looks different. Things feel calmer, she's managed to make everything seem OK again. She's worked her best girlfriend magic, she understands me, she tolerates (even embraces) all my weirdness & foibles. I feel blessed and grateful. Now I must get back to work at the teak topped desk ... there are deadlines a loomin'.