I have managed myself very badly today. Too much anxiety, spinning out of control (only briefly, but it's not nice), then barely under control for the rest of the day. I couldn't get myself steady enough to go to the art class without provoking queries as to whether I was OK, and I knew that would make me cry even more so I didn't go, but then I missed having the 'losing myself' experience, and that's not great either.

What had driven me right over the edge was phoning the agent who said all my references came out good so the flat is as good as mine and I'm going round there on Friday to measure up. This is obviously brilliant news but my brain just short-circuited on receiving it. I did manage to conclude the conversation without mishap (I think - yikes, maybe I didn't!), but then all the thoughts I had arrived simultaneously and I couldn't fight my way through them.

I've drifted through the rest of the day, not putting up much resistance to anything - going out for brunch with Bloke, who wittered on about egrets and glebes (he's a born-again bird-watcher), not understanding that my brain was FULL as I couldn't articulate that, even to myself at the time.

I was meant to be going over to see Marcus after art class, but when I tried to cancel him he wouldn't have it, said it would do me good and that he'd cook dinner, so I did a set of



to calm myself, then drove twenty miles across the grey autumn afternoon, through bare blackened trees in the misty countryside, to darling M, who was in fact just what I needed. I haven't been to his place since he passed his driving test last year, which is just lazy of me. He's trying to move back to the city, to the area I'll be in, which would be fab - we could be old dears together.

Anyway, the upshot of all this is that I shall call that helpline tomorrow. I can't face the prospect of feeling like this for the next three weeks. I know how to calm myself down, but not repeatedly, day after day, whilst achieving something complicated. Not without more help. Help in the thinking and planning. I have made a list, and got someone coming round to give me a quote on removals, so I am on my way. Tomorrow a couple of prospective tenants are coming round.

This is what Cainer (cainer.com) has to say, the bastard:

Gemini, Wednesday, 16 November 2011
'A problem shared is a problem halved.' Or so they say. Much depends on who you happen to be sharing it with. With some people, a problem shared is a problem squared - multiplied by the power of itself in order to produce something of gargantuan proportions. You have recently started to solve a problem. You have made impressive headway. Now you need to seek guidance. Be careful who you ask for this. Things need to happen quickly now, but that doesn't mean you have to put yourself under a lot of pressure

OK. No pressure, then.

Laters x

Fasten your seatbelts

Oh God. Feeling very agitated as house-move creeps towards certainty. Only right now, and a bit this morning. Not all day. A lot this morning, actually, but I phoned J, who doesn't work Mondays, and she listened to me blurting it all out, telling me I was doing fine, that moving is hell, everyone struggles, etc etc and persuaded me to phone the benefits office to tell them what was happening now, rather than worrying about it until it's all definite. And it's all fine. The woman I spoke to was lovely, once she grasped what I was on about. I may have been a touch incoherent as at the end (after she'd told me how to apply for some disability grant for ED), she gave me the number of the local M1ND helpline, to calm me down when I'm in a state. Ho hum.

I did calm myself down, perhaps a bit determinedly, but with some success. These next few weeks are going to be a challenge. I'm thinking of making a giant calender of the time from here till I move so I can see what's what. It makes me feel sick, to be honest.

My landlord called this evening - he said the agents had called him and he gave me a 'glowing' reference. He's been good - a decent bloke. So everything is going well.

Lists, that's what I need. Or maybe a giant brainstorm first. Yes, that's exactly it, a giant brainstorm on a big piece of paper, as the basis for the lists. Cool.

Yikes and double yikes.

Laters x

Lucky, lucky, lucky

Things I'm looking forward to in my new flat:

Finding out how I will live in a new space, in a new part of town. It will be different, it always is - my days will take a new shape. Exciting.

Getting back into gardening, in a new micro-climate. As the agent didn't have the key, I didn't go outside (and now I think of it, there are steps down to the deck), so I don't know what it will feel like to be out there - very near the coast, so windier, but surrounded by tall buildings - shelter? How much shade? No access to soil, so it'll all be pots. I reach for Geoffrey Hamilton's 'Paradise Gardens', which asserts that a little patch of paradise can be created anywhere, and I'm thinking a row of tall, square kitchen bins, black, planted with tall background foliage on at least two sides (north and east), then my big pots with their roses and what have you. I shall have herbs in the long tom pots on the steps to the kitchen. I'm loving it already. It's overlooked on all sides, which I don't mind as in reality no one does actually look, other than momentarily.

Walking down to the beach and gradually becoming very familiar with a small stretch of it.

Having a bedroom just for sleeping (no electronics) and a big front room for everything else - PC, art and craft stuff, sofa, telly, table. It's got a fireplace too - when I asked if it was usable, the agent put his hand up the chimney a bit and said it was blocked, but in the pic:



there's a fire basket, so I bet it's a go-er.

I'm looking forward to rainy winter afternoons, on my sofa, in front of a dancing fire, imagining all the people who have sat round that fireplace since the house was built.

Having a chair in the kitchen, so visitors can sit and chat while I cook.

living near S and M

making long, mixed-media wall-hangings to go on that picture rail.

hardly ever having to walk up a massive hill - which reminds me, I was looking for a pic of the viaduct, which looms in the distance between the buildings down the hill, for my local area painting project and I came across this:

That's where I live, up at the top of that hill on the left - madness.

Today Bloke and I walked along the arm of the marina. I discover that when I feel quite calm and peaceful, I still have a worried frown:



it was lovely:





Sleep well xxx

Guess who wrote a long, cheery post then accidentally closed the page? Gah.

So, in brief, a good day. Lots of long phone calls with old friends with names beginning with M. Cooking, from scratch. Fish cakes, at last. I'm hoping my new kitchen will be a place I like to hang out in.

Son is asleep upstairs. Nice.

I have an overwhelming end of term feeling about not having to look at estate agents websites.

Happy weekend xxx

Well, I'm having to use things I learned in group to keep myself steady right now, as at least two of my triggers have been activated by finding this flat, this flat even more beautiful than I'd described in my list of attributes a perfect flat would have.

I know it doesn't have perfect access for ED, but I really don't think, now I've walked so much of it, staring at front doors, that I'd get a properly wheelchair accessible flat where I want to live. Not that Bob could live in. And I'm the one who will live in it - ED comes down when she does and while I'm not prepared to consider a place that she can't get into, nor am I prepared to sacrifice what I need on a daily basis to avoid a couple of minutes of effort (for both me and her) every few months (at most).

But.

Trigger one boils down to 'I don't deserve good things' (in this case a dream flat), and aspiring to them will only end in tears.

Trigger two is 'I'll get found out' - not sure what exactly, as I'm doing nothing wrong but that doesn't ever get factored in - being referenced and credit checked has set it off, big time.

I'm giving them both the cold shoulder. I don't need to write it all out in a 'formulation', with columns headed event (flat), emotion (guilt/shame), thought (see above), evidence in support, evidence against, more accurate thought, new emotion.

I can do all that in a fraction of a second - I know all there is to know about these particular irrational thoughts and undue emotions. They are lifelong companions, though I haven't seen much of them recently. But moving house is always stressful - more so when it's not your choice, and even more so after a summer like this has been. (The summer of the daughters.) Stress is going to manifest itself somehow, and this is how it goes with me.

My job now is to watch these undue emotions from the sidelines and not to get involved with them, as they are bollocks. The guilt is clearly bollocks - I mean, I know I'm pretending not to be on benefits, but I'm not lying about it, I just swerved the question in a legitimate fashion and the landlord only cares about whether I'll pay the rent, which I will.

Deserving isn't quite so simple when you are a lefty, which I am, a loud and proud believer that we are all of equal worth and should contribute according to our abilities and receive according to our needs. That doesn't happen, not yet, though I do believe we're on our way towards it, slowly but surely, two steps forward, one step back. Meanwhile more than half the world still go to sleep wondering if they'll make it through the next day for the lack of reliable clean drinking water. So, no, I don't deserve to be in a better situation than most people, no one does. But nor do I deserve to not have a pretty mid-level standard of living in my society. So it's not about deserving, and I need to stay away from comparisons because me martyring myself and getting all knotted up with guilt over the plight of the poor benefits precisely no one. I had long arguments with H, my CPN, about this and her line was always the same - the one about parents putting on their own life-jackets first - you're no good to anyone if you don't make it. I will of course need to put my money where my mouth is when I'm settled and steady, and get stuck in to some volunteering, which I will.

Big amounts of distraction are also called for, preferably useful ones. Today I sorted out my finances (in principle), took two massive bags of washing down to the laundrette for a service wash and put it all away when it was done and had a big tidy round. I have loads of little tasks to be getting on with now, like getting rid of half my books.

One of the things that has helped when I'm arguing with my demons has been the support I've received on facebook. I love that people from such varied times and parts of my life have made the effort to wish me luck at precisely the moment I needed a bit of external validation. Thanks guys, a big heartfelt thanks!

Sweet dreams xxx

Phew

Oh my God, bloody hell, I don't know whether to be happy (yes!!) or not. I've put a £200 non-refundable holding deposit down on a flat. Yikes. It is beautiful - aw man, it's fucking lovely, but it's expensive and I've agreed to pay six months in advance (no DSS) and now I'm all in a flap because I'm too agitated to do the maths of it. I think I can make it work though I may have to borrow a bit to tide me over, but I can't think about it properly. Bloke is coming round tomorrow and we're going to go through it together. He thinks it's fabulous too - wholehearted approval and reassurance that all will be well. I really really hope so.

Aw man, it's far more gorgeous than I'd aspired to - gracious proportions, probably three minutes from the beach, which you can see from right outside the front door, loads of space, a fab kitchen, a big outdoor deck with loads of room for my pots, table and bench, leaving space in the middle. It's all terraced so the Bobcat will be safe out the back, same as here. I just looked at my list of desirable features and it's tick, tick, tick. Accessibility is not perfect - there are steps up to the front door, but they're not steep and there are wrought-iron railings, good and strong - I checked them out as I went in. There's also a step down to the bathroom and kitchen, not brilliant. The garden is off the kitchen not the living room. The hob is electric not gas. Those are the only things missing from my fantasy dream flat. They're not deal-breakers, are they? Aw man, I am taking it, I am gonna find a way.

For the record, I opened my email this morning to find updatess from seven different agents, offering fifty-nine properties, not one of which was remotely useful. Like a nine bedroom house for three grand a week, studio flats, third floor (loads of those) and ones I knew were off the market. I cried and cried and cried, just utter exhaustion at these fuckers sending me all this unfiltered, inappropriate aggravation.

Then, a bit later one of the nice lads I met on Friday (not the one I broke down and cried in front of, one of his colleagues), sent me an email asking if this one would suit. It's not available till Dec 10th and it turns out it belongs to his dad - the agents are just doing the paperwork, much as happened with this landlord. When I said I'd take it, we went to the office and someone else took over.

Night night, darlings. Happy sighs of relief. xxx

I made it out the other side of Tuesday just about in one piece. I had a beer with my dinner (shop pie, jacket potato, green beans and broccoli), and two puddings. I've had a cursory look through the to let ads and have indeed missed a perfect place. It was the ground floor of a big Victorian semi, with a fair size garden, not exactly where I want, at a great rent. Never mind - one just like it in the right place will pop along soon.

J came round early (which is why I didn't get online this morning), but that was my choice - I'm not putting it on her. She lives five minutes away and was here while her BF of three years removed the last of his belongings from her house after she'd chucked him out. I'm quite relieved it's over for many reasons: he's a boozer and their life together soon revolved around getting very pissed and getting into huge emotional scenes - I've had years of that from my kids, and before them I was doing it myself so I'm not interested in going there again. I never quite trusted him either, but she was happy with him for more than two years, and he didn't do anything too terrible in the end really. Just continually put booze first and when J stopped drinking and happened across 'Women Who Love Too Much' it all unravelled pretty fast. But while it's a relief, there's sadness too. That book, by the way, WWLTM, is far more useful than its crappy title would suggest. All right, here's the link

By the time I fetched up at art class I was quite agitated. The focus was on perspective, which I need to get right for my project of making a decent picture based on this area. Sadly my brain was fizzing too much for me to concentrate on the opening spiel - I just wanted to be on my own in a pool of silence. I tried to latch on to the principles, about eye lines and vanishing points, which are puzzlingly difficult to get right. Everyone else had remembered to bring a ruler, but I didn't and managed to get some bits of my painting right and others completely wrong. I copied a photo I took yesterday of one of the many pubs on corners in this area - there are five withion two minutes walk of my house. I want to have one in my big pic:



sometimes I feel embarrassed even as I post pictures of my painting, especially when the subject is there too, but hey ho, I can't see you sniggering and I don't care anyway:



As usual impatience was my downfall. I couldn't manage to mix the 'magnolia' shade of the pub's walls, gave up and sloshed on a quite nasty shade of yellow. Then the teacher came round and told me magnolia is made from burnt umber and a touch of scarlet. Scarlet? I'd never have thought of that. Although I'm not particularly pleased with the picture, I loved the doing of it, the getting lost in it, forgetting everything else, my mind settling down into a better place than when I arrived.

Had a cup of miso tea round at K's after class. Also very grounding, seeing him again, my fellow recoverer. Then bought, cooked and ate dinner and have done very little since.

Grateful for: my art class; pies; somewhere to write; friends; a warm cosy home on a chilly evening

Sweet dreams xx