Hello campers. It's been a while since I last wrote. But as my Gran used to say: "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
I've been a miserable beggar recently, and to be honest, communicating more than just the necessary has been beyond me. I finally confided my misery to my dear hubby & now I'm getting some help - both chemical & therapeutic - and I must say I'm feeling heaps better. Phew.
It's exhausting being miserable - and such a waste of time! All those conversations in my head, backwards & forwards between hopelessness & self reprimand. What the hell have I got to be miserable about?! I was certain I could argue my way out of my little black hole, but in the end I had to admit that I couldn't do it alone and ask for some help. Hard.
Anyway, I'm on the mend & learning stuff along the way. All part of the journey. Writing this reminded me of a notepad that my lovely friend & manager Louise gave me back in May, around the time of Therapy's 8th anniversary. She came into the shop when I was covering her lunch and presented it to me. "I saw this & thought of you," she said.
How lovely! The notepad was pale blue with a brightly coloured cartoon of a lady reclining on a chair, holding a cocktail glass & wearing a great pair of lime green wedges. "Nice shoes!" I exclaimed. The writing on the pad read: There's nothing wrong with me that ten years of therapy and a margarita won't cure.
I looked up to see Lou beaming at me. Oh my God, she's trying to tell me that I'm a nutter with a drink problem. I really need to get a handle on my depression. "So do you like it? I know Therapy's only 8 years old next week, but it's close enough."
Bless her, she was thinking about the shop when she gave it to me! Paranoia, it's one of the symptoms I guess.
So I've been feeling progressively better over the last few weeks and have shrugged off some of the sense of detachment that is another symptom. It's a weird sensation & one I'm sure we've all felt at some time. When I was severely depressed many years ago I felt it acutely. It was as if life was going on around me but I was observing everything from under water. Social occasions, even with close friends, were torture. I felt as if I were completely disconnected from everyone and trapped, on my own, in an invisible prison. Most disconcerting!
But I didn't feel that bad this time around. I just didn't feel like going out much, enjoying myself. So I'm delighted with my progress because this weekend we celebrated my bessy friend's birthday. Now, Heidi has moved out of her house opposite our's and gone to Crawley, 40 minutes away on the train. But "don't go there!", as my dear friend Sonya would say. Yes I miss her but nothing stays the same, and nor should it.
So I was determined (and praying) that I would be in celebratory mood for Heidi's big night. And I was. I'd glazed my sculptures, completed 2 of the new season's buying appointments, completed preparations for a Therapy promotion, and, to top it off, my deliciously mad friend Cara was coming to stay - I was in party mood! We drank, we ate, we danced outrageously to all our favourite tunes, and staggered to bed at a suitably debauched 4am. I'd call that a success.
But there's more. On Sunday morning poor Chris was subjected to the strident whoops & cackles of four girlfriends, bejammied and lounging on sofas telling funny stories. Which rather protractedly brings me to the point of my story. I had intended to write some of these said stories, thinking: A - they're too good to keep to myself. And B - I've got nothing to say. Oops, how wrong I was.
The title of this post refers to a blog & book called Shit Things My Dad Says. I haven't read it, but Cara explained that it's written by a man who had to move back in with his father and it's simply transcriptions of the daft things his dad says. It makes for hilarious reading because the truth is stranger than fiction. So here goes with yesterday's true stories.
Warning: DO NOT EAT OR DRINK WHILE READING. MAY CAUSE CHOKING
Cara's husband Steve, newly returned from a snowboarding holiday & sporting a ski tan, was stuck in a London traffic jam. The traffic was crawling along when the Porsche behind him shunted him in the rear. The slow speed meant that no real damage had been done, but Steve got out of his car to check anyway and tapped on the driver's lowered window.
The woman inside the car was talking on her mobile phone, seemingly unaware of his presence. He stood waiting until the woman paused in her conversation. "Hang on a minute," she said into the phone and casually turned her head towards him. "F**k off you orange-faced c**t!" she said and resumed her conversation.
Can you believe it?! Poor Steve was struck dumb. And ever since the incident his friends & loved ones have referred to him as the OFC.
Another dear friend (who shall remain anonymous for the sake of her relationship) told us some corkers about things her boyfriend had said:
On one occasion he was coughing and rubbing his throat. "I think I've got something wrong with my fallopian tubes," he said.
On another, he and my friend were driving along a road where a fatal accident had recently occurred. At the side of the road, beneath a small tree, were several bouquets of flowers. My friend solemnly pointed out the tributes to her boyfriend. "Look at the flowers. That's because somebody died there."
To which he replied: "What, did they fall out of the tree?"
I'll give you one final one of the many regaled over Sunday coffee & bacon sarnies - this from Cara again.
She was walking around Wimbledon in London one day, looking for an address. Reckoning that this was a nice area and the locals must be friendly, she approached a lady for directions. The woman had obviously noticed her looking lost. So when Cara approached her, she looked up & said: "Fuck off, do I look like a map?!"
Poor Cara, she was so taken aback that she slinked round a corner & had a wee cry. When she phoned her husband to tell him what happened he said: "Well at least you didn't get called an orange faced c**t."
lol
Okay, so they're not as funny on paper as they were at the time, with the accompanying faces and asides from the listeners. But that's the point really. Real life is funny. It's about the little things as well as the big things. It's about experiences and sharing them with people who love us.
So thank you to my beautiful friends & family who make living worthwhile.
X
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