Nothing else to do but write....

Wandering around Hay on Wye, wondering why I feel so uncomfortable, realising that the last time I was here was just before I left for university, I was with Evil Ex Boyfriend R, so is this my brain’s way of reminding me that things have been bad before and they got better? Or is this my brain’s way of telling me that things suck, and just when you think your life is on track and everything has worked out for you, they suck again.

One of my thoughts this morning, as I froze in the bathroom, trying to make hot water come out of the shower by sheer force of will, was maybe the increasing numbness of my extremeties will distract me from the ache in my chest, and the sinking feeling in my brain. This has proved somewhat true, it is hard to type about misery when you can’t feel your fingers, but I don’t know. This felt like a very good idea as I drove away from Birmingham, but now I start to panic when I think about going back, I talk about moving away sometimes and there are two lovely ladies who tell me it’s a very bad idea, but how do you live in the shadow of what your life used to be?

A conversation I keep trying to replay because it makes me smile:

Me: My mum says there’s always someone worse off than you, that’s what I keep trying to remember.
Gareth: Like suicide bombers.
Me: Yes! Suicide bombers! Love them...

Do you think that if someone googles ‘smile suicide bomber” this blog will come up? I wonder if I’ll end up on a government watch list of some sort…

Fact – Facebook is horrible, just horrible, it is actually torturing me and I think it’s enjoying it, I can see it in its eyes, and no matter how much I think I'll just not look... it's like torture porn for masochists.

Going to take some photographs this week, the garden is so beautiful here at the moment, there are snowdrops everywhere.

Fuck I’m cold. Apparently part of the grieving process (for that is what I have been told I am going through) is bargaining, wherein you try and make a deal with God to make things right again, so at about 4 this morning, I tried to make a deal.

Dear God, I’m not going to pretend that he’ll come back if I ask you, I’m not naive, but I promise, I’ll help poor people, I’ll volunteer for… stuff, I’ll bake for the elderly, if you could just make the central heating work, or if that’s too much, maybe the heat from the fire could actually penetrate my bones? I’m not asking for a miracle, just a little bit of warmth… God, I am wearing three jumpers, three! I just need to be a tiny bit warmer, and I am in quite desperate need of a cuddle, so if you could just see your way to making those two things possible, warmth and a cuddle, I will work in a soup kitchen, I will tidy my neighbours garden, I will tidy my garden, I can't promise to go to church obviously, but I will drive past them with due reverence, I will watch 'Songs of Praise' with my father and I won't make fun of him chanting the words to the hymms, although God, that is very funny. So just two things, warmth and a cuddle, I would like a cuddle from one particular person, but I'm not going to push my luck God. I'll make another deal with you, if you can't see your way to dishing out the warmth and the cuddle, then I will do anything you want, anything at all, if you will make him happy for me.