I can't seem to wake up today. I've tried it several times now and each time I have to go back to sleep. I don't know how much the rainy weather plays a role in this. It did make me feel like I was held captive in the apartment. Not that I minded that very much. It was quite cozy inside. At one point I slept on the sofa, in my bathrobe with my slippers on, in the company of Tyke and Gandhi. All of us just fit. We were all scrunched together.
A great tiredness lies over me. All I want to do is lie down places in my bathrobe and not move from there. I think it is a way of avoiding things I do not want to do. Instead of going out there in the big bad world, I hole up in here and play it safe. It's a survival tactic that I have when things get too scary for me. I better cancel today and pretend I don't have to do anything, otherwise I'm going to have a panic attack and I'll be in real trouble. Maybe I'll be able to get dressed. That will be something anyway.
Now that I've admitted to that, I'm having a panic attack, of course, and I've had to sit here for a while and try to suppress it. I've taken my tranquilizers in the hope that they will work soon.
My daughter sent me images just a while ago of our old house that we were most happy in through Google maps. It showed the house and the street. I think this got to me more than I realized, because I dream about that house several times a month. I have a horrible ache in my chest and a lump in my throat. I didn't want to move from that house, but was practically forced to, because my husband at the time wanted to make a promotion far away.
I'm calming down now. The tranquilizers are working. It's hard to be confronted with your past. Especially when you think you've closed the book on it. Well, except for in your dreams. I suppose it's always there in my subconscious. Living and breathing its own life. There's a lot of grief there and it is all unresolved.
I'm going to lie down now. I feel worn out. Like I've been put through the wringer. I must find some peace and quiet.
Ciao,
Nora
