CRASH BANG WALLOP

Crash bang wallop, my world has fell around my ears. And I cannot put a finger on why.

It could be one of many reasons, or maybe an amalgamation of a number of them.

Lets look at the year so far. As a taker of serotonin to back my faulty natural supply (my doctors has informed me is not unusual) I put my occasional spouts of depression down to horrible situations in my childhood.

I have concluded my mother (RIP) had a personality disorder. If not then she was just plain cruel. Not as bad as Sinead O'connors but coming a close 2nd. 

I don't think she ever wanted children, but used them as bait to trap men in the good old 50's, when it was still a disgrace, so you had to marry the girl.  

I do not believe it is right to speak ill of the dead, but in my mothers case it is hard not to.

She used to thump me , a lot, she would come at you with anything to hand for any slight mis demeanours, not making your bed, being untidy, which unfortunately is my default position.

Becoming a mother myself , I used to wonder  how she could be so violent with tiny children, it was just in her make up - she wasn't a very intelligent woman, but easy on the eye, to oh so many men.

Silly men.  She also was a  complete narcissist to boot as was the father. She had one female friend one, an Italian woman with children a similar ages to us 3 sisters 'Aunty Becca' we had to call her. I think she was the only woman who could put up with her, she kind of took her under her wing and we would often visit her, Her husband was an unfaithful aeroplane pilot, who was often the subject of her confiding how upset she was to mother.

Both parents loved to dress up and go 'out on the town' while the long suffering grandparents taking up the child care slack.

Last year I discovered I had an abscess after my face  became swollen up like a bright red balloon. I had left it 7 days to attend the dentist, thinking the niggling pain would go away- It didn't, getting much worse, as anyone who have experienced a tooth abscess will understand, I was shocked when it happened 7 months later. 

The new dentist I visited, explained the only way around this was to have the tooth out, or undergo route canal surgery, which I opted for. However with the pandemic throwing everyone's life on hold, it will be years before I can get that done. It is what it is, I do not have the cash to go private, but I would if I did. To compliment that, the enamel appears to have worn off my teeth, which are now stained  brown with tea, and red wine. brushing with smokers stain removal toothpaste only alleviates a little bit, making me smile conscious . It is embarrassing, but then, so is getting old. The aching joints the wrinkles, the saggy skin. I should exercise, I should do Yoga and meditation, but I don't simply through lack of motivation.

I feel trapped behind 4 walls not willing to go out. I find socialising a bore. Don't get me wrong I love talking to like minded souls and cherish those beings, but they are few and far between.

I am a people pleaser, who has lost her people pleasing skills. I constantly rage, at the state of the planet, at liars,  of whom there are many, at the TV, at the moon , as if my bubbling anger will help in any given situation. It doesn't in fact frequently makes matters worse.

But once I see the red mist descend, there is no stopping it. The funny thing is, most people will not retaliate, which is what it is designed to do. I mean to provoke and challenge. It takes a while for the anger to build up, but build up it will, to my shame. I should know better.

My husband is very kind and listens to my rants until I run out of breath. Is it inherent this fierce anger, a legacy of my birth? I would drop it off at the nearest anger recycling centre, if ever such a thing existed, in a heartbeat. It is of no use shape or form and just alienates those I care about, and just makes the situation worse.

Maybe it is my fiery Celtic heredity, they say the Celts are passionate race, but why has my passion , for anything else faded to a feint drizzle?

I have a studio and lots of virgin canvases, but I haven't painted in a year. I have a sewing machine spools of cotton and  materials, I haven't sewn any thing, apart from two masks, in 2 years. 

I love cooking, but am a keto diet now, until I lose the weight. |Maybe that is why I am such a cross patch now a days? It does make you lose your appetite .

I just feel as if I am waiting to die, and find it hard to glean any pleasure from anything. I think I have just described someone who is depressed. 

I need to pick myself up and pull myself together, only I can't.  The effort needed is too monumental.

I am in a comfortable position in my life, at last, but I am sort of scared of living. Irritated at everything.

Flies, midges, weeds, washing -up, gets my gander up. I wish I could get rid of my gander I really do.

My mother died recently, and every time someone says 'oh I'm sorry' I tell them not to worry about it, as we didn't get on anyway. What was her life for? She was a grade 'A' mega twit of a woman. and nasty with it, her favourite party trick was to deliberately get on someone's nerves.

I remember her once calling one of my nieces husbands by another name, through out a lengthy conversation, which he graciously ignored. Taking her to one side to alert her to her mistake, she pursed her lips and shrugged, "I know, but it keeps him on his toes" What ? I could not believe she was serious, but  she was.

Another time, when I was about 16, I was up visiting my sister in south London, we called in on her and had a conversation on her doorstep. It was evening time and the street lights were on. After a while  she turned to me, and asked my sister who I was. "It's me "" I exclaimed, smiling, "Me who?" came the reply. My sister had to tell her who I was. Talk about a slap in the face , crushed. Despite  not having changed since she last saw me, having long straight hair as I always did, did not jog her memory, even though I had not seen her for a year or so.

I took from that , she really would have liked me not to exist. The rot had started to set in  our relationship, which was one of a bully and her victim. I really should put these resentful feelings away but it is still raw. Being rejected ,like that, by your own mother is a bitter pill to swallow.

In fact , when she took our little sister back after famously falling out, and leaving her husband, she put her in a home, at 14.

My elder sister and I had left home by then, being  20 and 21. Luckily for her, her foster parents enjoyed having her and they got on like a house on fire.

I know I need to seek help, some talking therapy perhaps, that worked the last time. My head is so screwed up, like Churchills black dog, I will just have to hunker down and hope the brain fog and absolute feeling of worthlessness goes away. Like a great man once said "If you find your self going through something , keep going" I. n other words keep on keeping on.

My friend suggested I take myself off on a nice walk, maybe take myself out for a meal, but I could not even manage that.

Yesterday I washed up, hovered round, put a wash in and on the line, dug the garden, put plants in watered them and watched a couple of interesting things on Netflix. But today, it's crash bang wallop, back in the dolldrums, Ah Me !