This poem responds well to my mood of the other day, I think Lord Tennyson is right. I love this.
Whatever crazy sorrow saith,
No life that breathes with human breath
Has ever truly longed for death.‘Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant,
Oh life, not death, for which we pant;
More life, and fuller, that I want.Alfred Tennyson.
Having one of those restless nights, mind tormented by depressing thoughts. Worried about work, and all my inabilities and my lack of caring about just about everything and everyone (except H of course). Wanting to quit. Feeling trapped and scared because I’m getting older and my options are disappearing. Sinking into fantasies of escape into oblivion. Trying to remember the therapy I’ve had, trying not to feel down that it is not the quick fix I’d hoped for, that life is still shit, that it requires hard work, and that it is so difficult to summon the energy and will to try and rise above it.
I’m thinking I might quit the HR course I signed up to last year. It is just too hard and my brain can’t cope with trying to work it out, and my heart can’t cope with the inadequacy. Not easy being a quitter; still beat myself up about the whole dog rescue group business last year. Don’t know what the answer is. I seem to sign myself up to things to try and make something of myself, but all that happens is it adds to the things I can’t cope with and I get stressed and end up quitting and beating myself up even more about it. Damn.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zxOidIjknls&feature=player_embedded
He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of doubting,
For mist and the blowing of winds and the mouthing of words he scorns;
Not the sinuous speech of schools he hears, but a knightly shouting,
And never comes darkness down, yet he greeteth a million morns.He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of roaming;
All roads and the flowing of waves and the speediest flight he knows,
But wherever his feet are set, his soul is forever homing,
And going, he comes, and coming he heareth a call and goes.He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of sorrow,
At death and the dropping of leaves and the fading of suns he smiles,
For a dream remembers no past and scorns the desire of a morrow,
And a dream in a sea of doom sets surely the ultimate isles.He whom a dream hath possessed treads the impalpable marches,
From the dust of the day’s long road he leaps to a laughing star,
And the ruin of worlds that fall he views from eternal arches,
And rides God’s battlefield in a flashing and golden car.Sheamus O Sheel.
Being possessed of a certain dream – obsessed in such a way that it rules your life. It could be a dream, or it could be a nightmare, or a perspective that takes prominence above all other ways of looking at the world and affects every action, every word, every thought.
Been promising myself a new sewing machine for ages. Then I heard that Spotlight were having a sale, so I went and got myself a Swiss made Elna 1000 for $169. Very basic model, but a neat little machine. Can get onto all the mending I’ve been putting aside for years now! Would also like to sew myself a couple of skirts and vests, maybe brighten up the house with some new curtains.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m slowly going insane. The older I get, the deeper entrenched I am in this personality, which shies away from other people. I am distracted and lost for what to say most of the time. I’m turning into a grumpy, grunting cave woman.
Went for a medical check up this morning. I’ve been having some dizzy spells and wondered if it was a blood pressure thing. Blood pressure normal, which is good of course. Felt a bit foolish, truth be told. Hard to explain your physical symptoms when you’re not sure if they aren’t psychological. This is so silly but I think I would have been relieved to have something physically wrong with me.
I have these moments of desperation, where depression looms and I feel I’ve tried everything to overcome it, and it is hopeless. Then I practice some of the expansion and acceptance therapy I’ve learned recently and it eases off a little.
A late night on the computer Friday night did not deter me from wanting to head out on Saturday, though I left it quite late in the morning. Wasn’t really up for a long drive so decided to head into Gatton to top up my work wardrobe with some new shirts and vests.
Shoppers are not exactly spoilt for choice in Gatton; Target is pretty much the only option, unless you’re after something pre-loved from one of the op shops. After an hour or so of browsing and flicking through all the clothes racks I had a nice little collection of items, and started thinking about lunch and a nice spot to eat it in.
So I headed out to Lake Apex and on the way, stopped at McGraths. It’s a step above the average takeaway, a number of different menus but I settled for a hamburger and chips to take out to the lake. Very good it was too, and the fresh air and outdoor view only improved the meal, as I sat watching the local bird- and family-life in the surrounding parklands.
Afterwards I checked out the Gatton Cultural Centre, adjacent to the park; a big complex, with a transport museum, cafe, library and art gallery. Library was closed and I thought the gallery was too, but some volunteers at the information booth opened it up for me. I think they must get so few visitors there, or have not enough volunteers to keep it open all the time. The attendant who stayed while I browsed was very talkative, and I was conscious of taking up his time so didn’t stay long.
Ready to head for home I stopped at the IGA supermarket for a few groceries, and heard an old voice from the past. IGA have a “live” radio broadcast (the weather report included cyclone warnings from months ago); the announcer was someone I knew in Brisbane many years ago, when we were both working for John. Interesting when old names and faces turn up.