Had to make a judgement call about what my body can and can’t handle this morning and, sadly, decided it’s not capable of achieving what I’d have liked to achieve today. My plan was to have been in Dorchester for a day of studies on Thomas Hardy, Dorset’s favourite son. I might have coped fine with sitting down in conference rooms but the hour and a half drive each way is totally beyond me.
It’s a shame as I’m really finding academic adventures to be a huge inspiration of late, but it’s the right call to make. The last thing I need to do is push myself too far physically and end up anxious and afraid of saying yes to anything in the future. It’s taken me almost a year to start to engage with the wider world again after my misadventure in Sussex last May/June, and if I am to continue to trust my own judgement I have to continue to recognise what I’m physically strong enough for rather than be guided by what I wish I were strong enough to do.
I have waited patiently for therapy to come around all this time. As yet there still is no date for that to begin so I may chase it up during the week. While I appreciate the specific department and therapies I am waiting for are over-subscribed and under-staffed my self-care was practically at a suicidal last July when I spoke with my GP about the need for something more intensive than CBT. Luckily for them – and for me, I guess – I haven’t killed myself all dead in the interim.
As ever it has been friendship which has kept me from departing the planet. I am blessed with loving friends and now and then I even manage to work out what they might get from the deal too. My weird face gurning at them, that’s what they get. And endless anecdotes about cake.