I know it says Day 9 in part of the title, but it’s been a few days since I wrote the last blog. Well the real reason is that I’ve spent the last few days on a blow up bed in front of the TV watching all and everything, self pity I guess! On the plus side, I feel less crap than I did the previous week, on the minus side, the impact of spending a few days like this is that my legs are very weak and my hips are now unable to support my body weight!
Its the eve of my foot operation and I’m feeling anxious. I dropped one of my dogs off with a friend and have decided to trust the other one with my boys, being shadowed by my daughter, all in their 20’s. This dog I have entrusted in their care is as lazy as they are, (for the record, this remark is referring to my boys only) preferring to slump in the sofa than run round a field after a ball. I’ve done the shopping, so plenty of food, toilet roll and shampoo. I’ve done the housework, changed the bedding and done the laundry. I’m a day patient!
I don’t know what I was expecting in terms of the time lines regarding being dumped. How long am I going to be sad, angry, frustrated, angry, upset, angry, vexed, angry, resentful, angry, etc., etc.. Because I just feel anger right from the pit of my stomach. When I know something is happening, my mind-set is to get on with it, I’m focused and I just want the matter dealt with. So, I was dumped and the clever psychologists have a prescriptive map of your emotions and the general route you follow, but no time lines. Therefore, in my opinion they aren’t all that clever because that would be the first thing most people would want to know surely, you have a stage, how long will you be in that stage? And if they say each individual is different, well ok, so how do you know how each individual person will react and go through the stages declared?
Anyway, after the hours (days) I spent on the air bed in front of the TV covered in blanket of self pity and lying on a pillow of exasperated anger, I now feel a little less furious, a little less sad, and not quite as worthless. But only a smidgen. So there may be something in that galling cliche ‘time is a great healer’.