Good Grief 91

Nice sky this morning.
Time to delete the neighbours and re-focus on better things.
Talked with the OT with regard to progressing referral for mum - this social worker OT has been fantastic and stayed with us throughout and beyond mum being within her area of care. Just wonderful. Mum found the recorder players at the care home Christmas bash 'a bit noisy' ... we think she might have a hardwired memory to the trauma of our childhood recorder caterwauling.

Later again: I'm getting into the habit of writing and 'after comment' o my blips. I'm not quite sure why, I think it is the effort of getting the blip on in the first place and then later having things I want to add and so returning ... it reminds me again of this business of ''recursive'  ...
Each day feels like such a battle on every front. In a way, I don't mind the physical battle that is happening at the moment - it is something to tackle - I can get the grappling irons out and it is something to focus on. It doesn't matter too much and is not as bad as it could be, it's different, something to engage with, although very tiring on top of exhaustion.
But it is the emotional and psychological battle, which also becomes so physical, that is so enduring and demolishing.
It feels like trying to gather up ashes of yesterday's fire, every day, collecting them, these insubstantial shapeless atoms, and scoop them up, somehow, into something and in the process they feel strangely leaden and formless and have to get hauled through another day, all over again.