Taking care

It took me far too long to work out why I kept on getting up and walking into the kitchen. I would open the fridge and look in it, then close it wondering what I was looking for, then open again a few minutes later, then close it. It’s odd because last night I squatted in a bin for half an hour and then ordered a non-alcoholic Guinness and then went home on a broken Lime Scooter that nearly killed me before making me drop it off in Scotland and then walk home. At no point last night did I question my desire not to have any booze through all that. And then this evening, starting about 5pm, I took ages to realise that my fridge trips were that bit of my brain that wants it all to go away, looking for a wee drop of forgetting. As soon as I flushed it out into the open I could trap it in a mug of chamomile tea. And I did. And it was yummy. The chamomile flowers survived the kitchen purge. There’s loads of booze in the house, but I gave the white wine to Max when he came round so it ain’t there in the fridge rolling around on a hot night looking refreshing.

I’ve been having a bit of a wobble, but I took care of myself through it and acted on all the things I felt I needed to act on. Grown up response to mental health fuckery. We all need to take care of ourselves sometimes. I cancelled my work plans as they were just me working for me. I went and sat in Chelsea Physic Garden until I felt better about the world. That’s what it’s for, that garden, and it’s on my doorstep and I pay annually for it.

I overheard a tour guide saying how the garden used to be accessible by boat, and realised that the river would have originally come right up to my doorstep. I pottered about looking at plants. The sun was beautiful. I told you it would be a proper summer. Didn’t quite anticipate HOW proper.

A quiet day really just being slow and taking care. I carried some stuff up to the attic with Brian, sent an invoice , stroked the hot cats, and made a difficult phone call that’s very important to a great big fucking non acting job I’ve been building up to for over a year that’ll happen in early August…

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Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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