Murmerings of a bench
28.07.08, 10:20 pm

Oh, where to start. My ME�s currently in the middle of a strange flare-up, where I have pretty dreadful hormones, muscle pains and skin that is painful to the touch. The GP said that it�s the underlying nerves as opposed to the actual skin, and offered me some scary nerve-deadening drugs that they normally give as anti-depressants and anti-epileptics, but I decided to pass. I�m not hideously tired though, so am hoping that it won�t last for long, and that I�m not regressing backwards. I�m also hoping that the hyper-sensitive skin doesn�t last indefinitely, as it puts a strain on my various functional relationships. The hormones are pretty rubbish too.

I guess the main event is that I went to see my memorial bench on Sunday, as it's finally in place, along with my gran and my mum�s best friend, Jacky. The day itself was okay, nice in a way, but I don�t really know what to say about it. I showed people where the ashes were scattered, though I wasn�t completely sure that I was right, and then we went and looked at the bench, and people took photos, which seemed a bit strange and unwanted, almost inappropriate. The bench looks lovely... really really good. And I feel better that there is now something to mark my mum�s death, to commemorate her wonderful life, but it all still just makes me sad. My gran and Jacky are a lot happier now though, which is wonderful, and certainly discounts any resulting sadness that I feel from it. I think I maybe hoped that the bench would ease the grief a little, but it still hurts. I guess I�ll go back to internalising again, because expressing doesn�t seem to do much good. I feel less guilty, but still feel like I�ve swallowed a razor blade.

Indie is leaving on Thursday, which is beyond rubbish and swung around way too quickly. I have been running around like a headless chicken sorting out her leaving card and collections, which is just about there. She wants a very low-key send-off on Thursday, which I can�t blame her for as I would want exactly the same thing, and it won�t be emotional for me in the slightest as she�s staying at my house on Thursday night anyway. Undoubtedly we�ll spend the evening flobbering about on my bed eating houmous and watching old League of Gentlemen episodes like all the other times. My houmous obsession is yet to be abated. I really do think I have some kind of problem.

I went to see my friend Yvonne after work today, which was lovely, as she fed me tea and cake. I want to be just like her when I�m 84, though maybe without the double hip-replacement.

I don�t really have anything else to say. James was grumpy Saturday night, due to a combination of me not being able to have sex and not talking about my feelings properly. Sometimes you just don�t want to have to say the words.

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