But then, as it has been for weeks now, I come to this page and the cursor blinks on a white expanse that I am too daunted to make a mark on. I can't think straight, the words are so muddled and I feel intimated, plus there's the undeniable fact that I really don't have anything worth sharing. I haven't been to the allotment for a while now, the seedlings here at the house are growing on and disappearing as Andrew continues to tend the plots alone.
Okay, the weather has been a major problem and this is by far the worst year we've experienced in growing our own but honestly, I can't blame that alone. I have been terribly ill with a massive breakdown so severe I have had great trouble eating, talking, walking, following a train of thought and even caring about life at all. It has been hell and not just for me.
I take photos and they stay in the camera, I receive a stunning wooden planter from The Posh Shed Company and I simply can't write an easy review about how beautifully made it is. The act of blogging has become a rod for my back and boy do I thrash myself with it. I feel pathetic, incomprehensible and plain unworthy of being seen or heard.
Enough with the depression and anxiety already; I can't cope and I can't bare to lose any more friends and opportunities. We only get one life and damn it, the clock is ticking.
|little snippets of today at home|