On being needy

Spent a long time last year working out how to cope. Flat, unemotional, mechanically sorting out a routine.

Had a lovely week about which I wanted to write - helping on a school trip, maypole dancing, lovely food, getting the car stuck in soft sand, steam train trip to Scarborough. Wonderful, wonderful times.

And then this week? Dark thoughts; tense can't let go moments, uncertaintities, worrying about things I've done, and things I haven't done. Stressed till it hurts. Crying for unfathomable reasons.

Never needed company as much as this week. Hoping for distractive calls, messages, people popping by. Anything.

Worst of all? Guilt for being this way. To those who have suffered me this week, ta very muchly. I've worked out how much I want to be needed rather than needy. Always been Mr. Reliable to have around. This week, for no reason? He's checked out.

I had love and lost it. And with it went that fetching from the high shelf, put the kettle on, jar opening, wanted feeling.