Actually, the story about my British neighbor was only partially true. The intent was to provide a humorous, somewhat fictional, anecdote to get Ginger to come out of hiding and air her complaints. I know she's had a difficult time lately.
My British neighbor did go to England with his family and he did ask me to mow his land and I did mow his lawn. But the rest was pure fiction. We're good friends and he doesn't call me Hobson (as far as I know). He and his wife are English professors and I do give him hard time about that (the fact that they let a foreigner teach English).
You absolutely succeeded in making me laugh. And thinking about spotted dick.
Yeah, I am struggling, but I hate complaining. I did so to my IC though. She is worried about me. She knows me to always be able to get out of this slump by being proactive and she is afraid I am giving up on the things I want in life. She said When I get low, I always find A, B, and C to do, and I pull myself up. I told her it's the fact I can't physically do A,B,and C anymore and I've got nothing.
I am greatly unstimulated. That is my problem. I do not feel "alive". Exercise reminded me I am alive. Now I go to work and work a repetitive job. I get my D9, cook her dinner, get her to cheerleading and go to PT. I come home, get her to bed, do some chores and watch my stupid show alone, eventually just go to bed because I am lonely and bored.
I don't mind the mundane stuff in life. it's life. But doing it all alone is killer. Yes, I miss human physical touch and mental touch. Vigorous exercise is the only way I feel remember I am alive. I can't even have a dog to cuddle with and play with and show me some uconditional love.
There, I let out my complaining. I don't feel like a woman lately. Don't worry, I don't feel like a man either. I feel like I live outside of my body sometimes. Maybe I am just crazy.
I had a vivid dream about FF and his GF the other night. I actually woke up yelling a them. They were in front of me hugging and all that stuff and I was trying to escape it. I realize it is a matter of PTSD from my ex's affair. When I have to see a guy I cared for with someone else even if they didn't cheat, it triggers me awfully.
I am a mess basically. But I am sure I will unmess myself soon.
ahhhhhhhh, that kind of felt good even though I am a little pathetic.
