Today

I wandered on my own for a while around Pennington Flash. I was thinking about what I need to be doing to help my family through the next months and how I can start doing it. I don’t know why I ended up there except that suddenly while I’m writing about it I do know; it’s where I went 20 years ago when he first got really ill. Back then it was a place to go where nobody knew me, I could stagger around there crying openly and be anonymous. Today I walked around in the snow, not crying, just drinking a coffee and taking time to sit and look and think. It helped. I needed to get my equilibrium and just slow things down naturally. My brain feels like it’s racing without the Seroxat to slow everything down and keep it flat. It’s chaotic and often frightening but still so much better than the nothing, bovine, sleeping state. I’m feeling something. Even though what I’m feeling is really fucking shitty, it’s human, and real. And no matter what is ahead of us, no matter what is barrelling towards us ready to knock us all flat out, breathless, I’m happy. I really am.

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About pippa

40-something, yogi, gardener, reader and writer. Not great at any of those things but more than happy to be average. I'm anxious, depressed, chaotic, boring, delighted, excited and often foolish. It's all good. And cake.
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