Saturday at the Allotment I wanted to kill myself. I not joking. I was going to ram the garden shearers in under my rib cage, I was talking nonsense and shaking uncontrollably; Andrew took me home. I was medicated and slept the majority of the day. You probably don't want to know that but I think it's important to tell you ~ Ecotherapy is not a panacea. Sometimes it can make you feel worse, even on your usual tablets and even though you want to be there ~ this cancer of the soul is sometimes stronger. It rips away the only pleasures you have in life and turns them into spiteful enemies. I was scared of every other person down there, I didn't deserve to be there and I was an embarrassment to my husband.
I was a mess. Luckily I didn't do anything stupid and was back the following day. I had a great Sunday, the Allotment helped immensely. I spoke to friends and I took photos, the sun was shining and it was (according to Ronnie and I at least) the 1st T-shirt day of the year, I even got a little colour on my arms. It was a joy to see growth all round me, to hear petrol mowers and kids laughing, feel the sun on my face and arms and smell the grass, the barbecues, Maggie's little warm body.
Hope: it's an intangible thing but the greatest ally when it visits, even for one sunny afternoon.