It's the first day of a new month, and we are still on lockdown for the foreseeable future.
And I have to admit, it's beginning to get to me. Yes, I know that I am in a very privileged position - I have a warm, safe house, I'm allowed outside to do the week's shopping, and to walk around the fields around my village. I share my home with my husband and son. And all my immediate family are well and safe.
So why am I feeling fed-up? Why am I yearning for a punch ball and a set of boxing gloves?
Perhaps it's the weather - I went for a walk this afternoon and got soaked.
Perhaps it's the fact that the photo that was supposed to go with this week's blogpost sat down in the middle of the road and refused to be transferred from my phone to my PC.
Perhaps it's because I haven't had a haircut for so long that *every* day is a Bad Hair Day.
Perhaps it's that I've been trying to contact someone and keep getting the engaged tone.
Perhaps it's because I'm stuck with my novel, and can't work out where to go next.
Perhaps I'm just feeling a bit Friday-ish.
Very small pin-pricks of irritation. But cumulatively, it feels like being thrashed with nettles.
I know that so many people have far better reasons than I to be fed-up, angry, depressed, anxious and so on. But feelings are not logical - they come when they will.
So I'm admitting it. And more, saying that it's perfectly okay to feel this way, even if we have "no good reason". Sometimes, life just feels like that. And the worst thing we can do is to soldier on, suck it up and pretend that everything is fine. Because that way lies breakdown, stomach ulcers and explosions, when all the pent-up feelings just have to come out.
So instead of an upbeat, loving, compassionate message this week, I'm sharing my feelings. And giving everyone else permission to share theirs too.
PS Having written this, and confessed, I feel so much better!
Thank you.
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