With the exhaustion that has come from the fight the good antibodies are putting up inside my body against the invading germy ones - a fight they don't seem to be winning as the germs have migrated to my chest - and the sleeplessness resulting from my spending most of last night awake listening to the symphony of wheezing in my chest, has come the opportunity for the evil seed of self pity to worm it's way out of the 'sorry for me' place I usually try to keep it locked in.
The spectre of worry and anxiety over the last couple of weeks (failed interview, rent increase, lack of money, Panorama programme, worries over the health of family members, my health, missing my niece, a few other things it's best not go into) has loomed large over me this morning. And so I cried. Much. I saw the leaflet about homelessness I picked up at the Cathedral Gardens as an omen and fretted myself into a cardboard box under a bridge with all that was left of my belongings in a plastic bag in no time at all. So I cried some more. Crying while coughing and sneezing is a very wet occupation and so on my way to the bathroom to get a loo roll to use as tissues, as it felt as though this could go on for some while, it occurred to me that a nice shower and washing my hair might cheer me up and help me focus on the positive and thus optimistic side of life. Water of any sort - drinking it, seeing it, washing in it usually makes me feel better.
So I stepped into the shower, still crying but there you go. Firstly I dropped my shampoo onto the shelf as I was picking it up. It fell off the shelf, knocking over the conditioner on the way. Both fell into a bowl of pot pouri the contents of which ended up all over the bathroom floor. After my shower I banged my head on the bathroom wall picking up the pot pouri. I knocked my cleanser into the sink. I dropped my cotton wool onto the floor. The towel fell off the towel rail while I was nowhere near it.
A strong desire for chocolate was rising in my emotional centre.
But, not having any, I thought breakfast would be the next best thing. So I headed for the kitchen where I walked into a pile of plastic storage containers I keep on a shelf by the radio. This has been their home for about six of the eight years I have lived here so I know where they are. Therefore my conclusion is they moved in order to be knocked over by me thus adding to my stresses. Psychotic storage boxes I do not need.
My last glass of fruit juice either had suicidal tendencies or it wanted me to suffer as it threw itself all over the table as I reached for it. I need the sugar damn it - I have no chocolate!!!
I reached into the larder for a teapig (green tea with mint - recommended) and two packets of pasta - from the shelf above!!- threw themselves onto the floor. They want me to bang my head again as I bend down to pick them up. Well it won't work. They can stay there.
The handle has just come off one of my two favourite big teacups and I can't get the cutlery draw open to get a teaspoon and I don't know why.
On my way into the bedroom the skirting board came out and kicked my toes and the edge of the door bit my arm. Right there, where that big green bruise now is.
So here I sit, in my bedroom with my teapig, scared to move for fear of my surroundings or my body attacking me further while I try to keep the advancing pity party at bay.
I am talking to myself severely. I am telling myself I will get a job, I won't lose my home and if I do have to leave this one it could be to a better one, I will have money again and Mr Right will come along and I will know he is Mr Right. BUT I AM NOT LISTENING. My world at this moment is dark, vengeful and very, very sad.
However, the glimmer of optimism that still flickers somewhere deep inside me and valiantly battles the pessimistic self just made a massive effort, it flamed bright and reminded me that a walk would probably do me some good. But then, I thought that about the shower and hair and quite frankly I don't want to fall flat on my face in the street because my feet let me down or the pavement took against me. That's happened before, on more than one occasion and it's not funny.
But remembering my recent walks with my camera I wondered if just looking at the photos I took would have the same effect as actually going for a walk. You know, like a meditation. Imagine it well enough and your body actually thinks you have spent time on a sandy beach by the sea and relaxes because it thinks it's had a holiday. I have had some success doing this in the past and although it is preferable to have the actual holiday sometimes needs must. It doesn't work with chocolate though. Imagining a soft, silky bar of Galaxy melting in my mouth and gliding it's way sensuously through my body only makes the desire worse. My body is well aware it is being deprived of it's emotional crutch.
So, I will give it a go. And as I have probably tipped you over the precipice of lowness by now I will share my photos with you to cheer you up.
This has helped. These are just a few of the photos I have taken. I will show you some more later on. Right now I feel strong enough to brave the kitchen for another teapig and to see if the bag I took out of the freezer last night is butternut squash soup - hopefully - or - possibly - orange and mango juice. I really must start to label things. I am running the freezer down so that I can defrost it so I am eating some rather strange combinations at the moment. Sadly there is no chocolate. And although I feel better in myself I am not going to tempt fate by going out into the world to get any. Oh for an ice-cream van to appear. In fact not moving very much seems to be suiting me very well so I might take my soup, or juice, and watch a DVD. I know it is daytime and I vowed I would never do that while I am off work but I think today is an exception.
And as Scarlet O'Hara once said 'tomorrow is another day'. And in the spirit of optimism, hopefully it will be a better day.