Like Humpty Dumpty, I got put back together over the course of yesterday. Paul is history. No, he’s toast. My friend J was most instrumental of anyone in helping me over it. I went to his flat, sat on his sofa, looked at his beautiful collection of artefacts from various eastern religions and talked and talked.
He did not interject. He did not ask questions. He did not intervene. He just sat and listened. He did me more good than any therapist I’ve ever been to. I guess this is because he knows me really, really well. While I was in hospital I compulsively sent texts to all my friends. J was the only one who unfailingly texted me back. Often he is the one to text me first.
He sends enigmatic, witty, hilarious, poetic and slightly off-key texts by turns. Sometimes I would sigh a little when I received yet another text, wanting it to be from someone else but then finding it was from him. I’ve changed though. I used to find J quite heavy going. When I was trying so hard to be positive and fighting my own negativity he seemed overwhelmingly pessimistic. I now feel completely different. I appreciate J for who he is and wouldn’t have him any other way.
I have another friend, a young woman in her late twenties called A. Today we exchanged a number of texts before she invited me round to her flat. I’ve never been there before. She rarely invites anyone there. She is quite paranoid and like me, is not long out of the hospital. We bonded with each other when we were both in the Crisis Unit. I found her very demanding at that time and was slightly dreading seeing her today as I was feeling rather drained.
However I came away fom her place today feeling quite honoured to have been asked round. She is an amazing person. I believe she is very powerfully psychic. She managed to freak me out a fair bit but kind of in a good way. I told her she was quite possibly the strangest person I have ever met. I meant it too. And I’ve met some oddballs in my time.
I spoke to my Mum on the phone for an hour today. Our relationship has changed too. You know that awful expression officey types like to use about ‘singing from the same hymn sheet?’ Ghastly isn’t it? Sorry to have mentioned it. But after years of singing dodgy off-key harmonies, my Mum and I are finally getting it together. We’ll be round at your gaff carol singing some Xmas soon…forewarned is forearmed and all that…
I also tried to help a lovely, talented, wonderful friend and neighbour, J, to sort out her head. I know that until she exorcises her own personal demons we will not be able to really enjoy each others’ company. The phone call and the texts left me feeling pretty drained but I knew I had tried my best.
I didn’t have time to blog after all these shenanigans. My Mum would seemingly have been happy to go on chatting at least another hour. Then I went to a really good art class at the local day centre. The prolific texter J is also a very talented artist and was my main reason for going. I managed to draw some wiggly shapes and colour them in. He thinks I’m talented which is encouraging, but I just get mildly irritated by the messy pastels getting under my fingernails.
R my partner was struck down by a knackered attack this afternoon. I wondered if he would make it over here at all at one point. But in the end he had some lentil stew made by his ex wife from a recipe by Gillian McKeith. That seemed to put enough lead in his pencil to get him on his bike and over here where he proceeded to do loads of work on the computer.
I forgot to buy the Saturday Guardian which departs from our usual routine, but it’s probably as well. It would just have irritated me. I was mildly pleased to note that Ireland beat England at rugby, while Richard was mildly disappointed. Out of the two of us, he’s the patriot.
Bob Dylan is currently expressing his ‘Other Side’ on the stereo. He has just declaimed ‘I’ve got a million friends’. I know how he feels…
But Paul isn’t one of them. In fact next time I play Bob’s ‘Positively 4th Street’, where he lays into every insincere so-called friend who ever wanted to see you ‘paralysed’, I will be thinking of him.
But not of any of you, folks. Thanks for reading my off the wall garbage. Love, Zoe.