Yesterday (thank goodness yesterday, gone, past, finished) was not the best day ever scheduled what with a social worker visit and part three of seemingly endless root canal work.
I say this because as I walked home from a positive volunteering experience at my son's school, my mind swung to "matyrdom". Me, a martyr, did I want to be a martyr?
The minute I thought that, Jennyfer Spencer came to mind; the disabled woman who left a note for the local paper asking it to investigate her death following her battles with housing.
When the social worker came round I didn't tell him about this. When he said: "We still have concerns about you because when you were going through your eviction you said you had suicidal thoughts. Do you still get those?" I said: "No," because, well what's the point? They're not going to help us get a secure flat are they?
Rrrrraaaaaaaaaaagh. Well at least I'm not crying this time, at least I'm just annoyed with myself I feel this way.
I "meditated" alot on that dentist's chair yesterday. I just surrendered and he was kind, he said it would only hurt for a bit then not hurt anymore as he massaged my gum or jaw or whatever, following my "electric" shocks.
My nail's though. Unconsciously it seems I've been picking at them. I'm trying not to do it now, but I can't help it, bits of skin are poking out, saying pull me pull me. Two nights ago my thumb and cuticles were bleeding. That's when I noticed, then.
To look at me you wouldn't know any of this stuff is going on and that is good, that is very very good (just don't look at my hands).
You know, I'm quite pleased it's Lent today. I'm going to take all my bad habits and try and stop them for a while.
Who knows what joy that could bring me? What inner peace?!
Que sera sera ey Stigs