Good Grief 122

When my friend came round with some food she had said that they were planning to spend the weekend doing some work on their bathroom that had needed doing for a long time. After I had recovered from the exhaustion of getting up this morning I surrounded myself with bits and bobs of driftwood and sea glass that my husband and I had collected over the years. He was a bugger for coming back with half a beach and making plans to create this and that. I have found enough sand to fill a desert.

I struggled to focus though, I couldn't bring anything together and I started to get frustrated and depressed that I couldn't seem to get the energy to make anything. I couldn't see any shapes, I couldn't link things together, make patterns or make the driftwood dinghy as I'd hoped.

It had been a dreadful night. I thought I might have been over the worst of my bug but I was up and down, I was tormented, I got up, made a hot drink, went back to bed, got up again, lay down, curled up on the floor, lay down again. I felt the most dreadful splitting and torment. Every cell was taut, stretched out like bubble gum, like a puny person trying to stretch one of those muscle developers, each and every one in pain with the effort. It was like a fight with madness itself. All normal concepts had ceased to apply. There was no grief, no depression. I felt lost at sea. Groundless. Nothing to hold on to. Just a body screaming and not knowing what to do with itself.

I tried to soothe, zone out, distract and then exhaustion kicked in for a while and I slept for a few hours before feeling the relief of daylight.

In the end I managed to make this and was quite pleased, and relieved, and I will take it to my friend for her bathroom..