So, for the second weekend running, I have run away with my campervan to my haven, the beach.
Stress was running high, what with the unfortunate timing (sarcasm) of my break down and the stress of me and financial matters made my (former support) husband crack. So screw him, I upped and left in a torrent of swear words and fury and drove off into the dusk of the night sky, in my trusty VW campervan.
Yesterday was a very bad day. I have been having the occasional good days, whereby I get up and actually do housework for a maximum of an hour. An hour is exhausting, I kid you not, because I simply cannot just do a hash job. If I’m going to hoover/mop, everything will be pulled out and a thorough job will be executed. And when I am in the midst of the cleaning flurry, I then (as I always do with everything in life) notice something else that needs doing and start to clean with one hand, as my other hand finishes the mopping. And then I get a lecture (well meaning I guess, but in my current state of mind, bloody annoying and patronising, and I feel like screaming “You can preach like you’re a self-help book, BUT actually you have NO idea!!!!) A lecture around the fact that he’s surprised that I’m sweating and so out of breath and that all this ‘resting’ is not good for me and I’m getting unconditioned ?!?!?! WTF! But do you know What? I’m just too tired to get into any of it as I’ve already got too much s#@t going on.
So Yeah, this is where I’m at right now.
Over and out.