It's heavy man

Ah shucks. I was so grateful when the new(ish) Alan Bennett book I reserved at the library had come in, but not when I went to pick it up and realised it was twice the size of a normal hardback and not only would it be almost impossible for my feeble little hands to hold, but definitely too heavy to lug around the supermarket and home with the groceries! Never mind - when I discovered the weighty contents of the letters from the hospital, that was it for concentrating on anything really for the next few hours. I give thanks that shortly after, quite randomly, Stephy sent a message luring me out for tea and cake with her and Gary so I didn't have to try...and for them both being understanding when I didn't want to talk about my troubles. Thinking about them is more than I can bear sometimes, putting them into words gives them way too much power.

I don't want to talk about them in a gratitude blog either, but basically I had two things left to look forward to, two little holidays I'd booked a while back due to happen the next few weeks... and now neither really seems feasible. And you know, it's not really an 'Oh well, there's always another time' situation and I'm really not taking it well. I don't know what to give thanks for about it to be honest...um...that I dared to keep dreaming that the nightmare wasn't real?

I am currently completely out of cunning plans, wit and wisdom, resilience, resourcefulness, strength, serenity...the whole kit and caboodle of what I try to be. I think I should be giving thanks for the opportunity to develop new qualities...perhaps defeatism and a ready willingness to give up might come in handy, certainly more acceptance and appreciation of what I've got. I give thanks I've a TV and a bath and a bed, a few pages left to read in a book. I give thanks I can still make people laugh when I'm crying inside...and that I can stay inside and cry as much as I need to, well for a day or two at least. I give thanks I've Higgidy Pie for my tea.