Blah

I had a very bad day yesterday (if you read yesterday's blog you might see that this was coming...)

I had to call M. at the shop and ask him to come home to be with me because I was so bad off. Actually, the conversation went more like this:

M. "Do you need me to come home?"
Me: (wailing) "I don't know!"
M. "That means yes."

Then I ended up having a crying jag on his shoulder and saying stuff like, "I wish I were dead." Little stuff like that. The crying jag didn't last very long as I measure those things: only a couple minutes or so. But it was good to be able to cry at all.

To top it all off, my therapist didn't show for our appointment. This happens sometimes. It used to happen a lot more often and I got really upset about it then. But now, after six years, I've kind of accepted that these things happen and I just need to deal. She might have had an emergency with another client or one of her kids, or she might have got stuck on the other side of the mountains--it was snowing pretty heavily up there yesterday. I'm sure I'll find out about it later. The one thing that makes me a little annoyed is that it always seems that the times I most need to see her are the times when our appointments fall through for some reason.

Mostly I don't feel anything. And I still think she's the best therapist anyone could have and I'm fortunate to be able to see her, especially when I pay her so sporadically.

Today I am just Blah. A little of the anxiety still remains. M. asked me if I wanted him to stay with me and I dearly wanted to say yes. But I feel so guilty taking him away from the things I know he loves doing, and the things that may actually contribute to our financial well-being. I feel like a big useless lump.

I don't know if I'll be able to get dressed today. My hands are cold and shaking. I can't think farther ahead than the next second or two. I know I need to do things like bathe and clean the kitchen but it all seems so overwhelming.

I'm also sad that we won't be able to celebrate Yule this year. Our Yule celebrations have gotten smaller and smaller as time has gone by. I remember the first Yule M. and I had together--it was bad in a way because we were still living with the psycho ex-housemate and she made everything difficult. But we had a lovely dinner by candlelight and lit the Yule fire from the remains of the last year's Yule log and sat up all night with it, waiting for the sun to rise in the morning. When we moved to this side of the mountains, we tried to keep up the tradition, but it's been very hard. The Yule fire was the first to go, as none of the houses we've lived in have actually had fireplaces. Then we lost the tradition of doing everything by candlelight, as the cats had a bad tendency to set themselves on fire...what is it with cats and candles? Last year we traded down and got a tiny tree instead of a big one, in the hopes that the demon kitties wouldn't destroy it. They still did. So this year it looks as though we won't have a tree at all, even if we could afford one. And of course we can't afford gifts at all. This doesn't bother me so much, except that I love giving gifts. Picking out the precise right gift for a person has always been one of my favourite things about the season. I don't care so much about getting them.

The one thing I won't do without is my Yule goose. We priced them at the store the last time we were there and they're up to $55 for a 12 lb. bird--yikes! I guess that's where a lot of this month's food stamp money is going to go.

Well, I'm going to go see if I can get up the nerve to take a bath...that sounds so lame, but it's where I am.