No title for this one yet. Just realized, wow...Journal 60.
I haven't titled my last few posts as journals since they were really more like ...accounts. Of my Maine vacation, of my engagment, and the reaction to it.
As I was emailing my friend L. today..It's Monday and I'm grumpy.
And I have NO reason to be, but I am. Then she nailed it for me: I'm engaged, and I'm on my own here again in TO, and my love is 1100 kms away (800 miles. But I think in kilometres..I can't help it. And when I see gorgeously decorated beach houses on houzz.com, this decorating site I love, I mentally insert a U in harbour. Oh God.).
Before I continue my Monday rant (rainy weather, summer is over, my hair needs a cut like you would not believe), let me say I had a fantastic weekend with my two best friends, thanks to my friend T's husband who booked a hotel room for us in Niagara and sent us on our way. We wined, we dined, we cross-border shopped, we went to wine country, all along curved roads (more deer signs help me) and tried amazing Canadian wines, saw the Falls, ate Tim Horton's for breakfast, read lazily in the hotel Sunday morning...we did it all.
And at the end of the weekend we all went home, them to their husbands and children, and me back to my condo..alone. And then I crashed. I had an anxiety attack the size of a house, and my sister had to talk me down on the phone. All I needed to do was put a few kilometres of road under my shoes and I guarantee I would have been fine, but I got all dressed to run (around 4pm), shoes and all and then...took a shower instead.
So the guilt of that got all mixed up in the anxiety, and then Sunday Night Syndrome started early, and there you have it.
My sister and I had dinner at her place, which helped, we each had a cry over my dad, which helped (I had seen two very old men at the Vineland Estates vineyard and that set me right off. It does every time. I mourn the years he will miss, that he was cheated out of. The other day I saw a girl about my age having coffee at Starbucks with her very elderly dad and I almost went over the edge. Right over. In the Starbucks. Controlled myself).
So I ended up the weekend finishing the book Madness by Marya Hornbacher, and learning that bi-polar is a scary and frightening thing to endure, and then I journalled, in my fawn-lark journal, with no regard for the lines on the pages, and I let myself scrawl while I made lists for myself, and talked to myself in the pages, and just basically let myself write each and every sad scared feeling.
I will post some Niagara pictures so all can see what a time we had. And yes, I do know how dearly lucky I am. It's just that my head likes to take over sometimes and play tricks, especially on Sunday afternoons. It's one of the reasons I started this blog....
More in a bit.