Nevermend

I won't tell stories of this time because I won't want to hear them. There've been stages over the last few years when it's not felt so much as if I'm on a journey but held hostage in some heartless place. We're supposed to believe this stuff makes us stronger...but I'm not sure it always does. I won't say it's soul destroying - that's glib and unnecessarily melodramatic. But something in your psyche can get chipped or dented, a nevermend not a nevermind...

I give thanks for my fortitude, my sense of humour, my mission to find things to be grateful for and share. I give thanks I don't have anyone close to share or see and hear how I suffer and struggle at times with the indignities and impracticalities as well as the dreadful pain. I wouldn't want someone to empathise and feel bad too...or not to, so I feel worse. I give thanks I'm not ashamed to cry. 

I give thanks for washing my hair, and washing some clothes and putting some clean ones on. I give thanks for the times the neighbours are quiet. 

I give thanks for the solace of seeing the changing moods of the sea; for a bowl of defrosted cherries with shortbread biscuits and cream. I crave the comfort of one of my yummy puddings, but I can't face the discomfort of making one just now. 

I give thanks that mine are first world problems. I have a health service, a home, friends with cars. I give thanks I know all things must pass...