I am extremely humbled; a psychotherapist friend in Bristol in the UK asked me to be a contributor for her practice’s website. My first article is available to read here. I shall write for her as required, from my own perspective as someone with depression, on various topics. It is a tremendous privilege to be part of a project like this, knowing that my stories may help others who are struggling.
As I was writing the published article, it got me thinking about other aspects of lockdown and how they’ve affected me.
I said to Eliza the other day that I am starting to hoard stuff, and it is scary. I know that hoarding is linked to certain mental illnesses, including depression. To quote a short excerpt from an article I found online: “The term hoarding refers to a psychological disorder whereby an individual refuses to discard things that they own. The person holds a firm belief that they will eventually need these items for some reason.”
I have had a buggered back for ages, but for the last ten days, I had debilitating pain as I’ve never experienced before. I couldn’t walk – I shuffled; I couldn’t stand up from a seated position without crying in pain. It was dreadful.
I said to The Bean this morning, “It’s Monday”, and her response was, “No, it’s Thursday” to which I further stated, “It’s a Monday because there was a break in the week.”
Holy crap on sleet, snow and burnt toast! Just after seven this morning I got a heads-up that I may be walking into a shitstorm when I arrived at the office. Turns out that an attempt to aid a colleague confused her and had her here until after eight last night – on a public holiday. I apologised and she was understanding, but nevertheless, the day pretty much has gone downhill from there and I am over it. Seriously. Fucking. Over. It!
Thank goodness we are closing for our summer break tomorrow, because I don’t know how much more strain I can take. I am beyond exhausted, both mentally and physically. Aside from the pressure at work, I am gatvol of Covid-19. While I am not a big fan of the beach, I do enjoy a swim in the sea during my holiday; the beaches are now closed to swimmers, but open to surfers and fishermen. I wonder how the virus discerns between the different beachgoers.
I don’t have much planned for my holiday, other than spending some time with my folks and popping out to the farm to see Shayla-Rae, her mum, her hubby and my Goddaughter, Mouse. I will be able to spend some time in the pool there too, which is a win.
Anyway, I’m off to make myself a cup of Rooibos tea, because if I drink coffee and someone further pisses on my parade, I may just klap them.
I’ve been a bit quiet blogging-wise. It’s that time of the year when the days flow into one another. I’ve missed two opportunities for #MoodboardMonday. Hopefully I’ll get back into it soon.
Today marks the beginning of a new month. With 2020 being as unpredictable as a hormonal woman on a bad period without her wine supply, I wondered if we’d ever see December. The world has been completely turned on its head, with people having strong opinions about the realness of the Coronavirus and the lockdowns attached to it. Honestly, I’m over it and by it I mean 2020 and the Coronavirus. Add to it that everyone is just gatvol, and you have a ticking time-bomb waiting to go kaboom!
I swear, I just blinked, and a week went by. I can’t believe it’s #MoodboardMonday again already. Today’s colour is grey (or gray, depending on what dictionary you favour). It’s the colour of my mood and the fog that has taken up residence in my brain.
Life in the Garden Route of South Africa has its perks. There are quite a few gin distilleries close to my hometown. There is even a school in town where you can make and infuse your own bottle of gin as a keepsake to enjoy in the comfort of your favourite chair at home.