I've been meaning to write here for ages
but apparently it comes easier
when I am poorly
than when I am fine
and the latter was the case
for the last week or so.
Signs of my improving mental health included
not having to listen to something every minute of the day,
being more mind- and thoughtful about
other people's struggle,
putting on my red-flowery T-shirt
for the first time since July,
and generally not getting caught up
in the webs of self-loathing and shame.
I guess it lasted till today.
And now I remember the good M. V.
who at a conference on homelessness
told us that we should not be too regretful
if after three months our client gets back to the street
but rejoice that he could have three nice months off it.
So today I remembered the only reliable greeting-card senders in my life:
the parents and grandmother of Á.
No card this year, obviously
but they've sent a text later in the evening
which compels me to edit this part
(nevertheless, thinking of them was painful).
Meanwhile, the day was dragging on a bit disappointingly:
a few messages from friends
in fact, some totally unexpectedly
and lots of silence from others.
I know the world's on the verge of collapsing
and so I really shouldn't have expectations
yet
apparently I still have them.
My brother's family saved the day though
with a lovely lemon cake made by my nieces
and a bag of food ("quarantine-present")
and some general merriment and lap-sitting and the rest.
Later I even went shopping (gasp!)
bought Dutch flower seeds
(then read at home that they're supposed to be sown in June...),
unicorn magic marshmallows :-),
a pink candle
and two big-flat-wheelie boxes
underneath my bed.
Trouble is "only" that I still don't feel like tidying.
But A. called a few minutes ago
how very kind of him;
and we even had a Skype conversation with G.
where I've got to see my future goddaughter live.
Seriously, I have no reason to be disappointed.
This turned out to be a quiet but good birthday.