Exploring Mt. Everest in slippers.

Weeks like this one, I can understand why it's a curse.  This blog isn't particularly cohesive, more a collection of random things I've observed or felt during the week. I moved into my new place, and thanks to my sister, got it done in two car-loads.  I was completely unpacked by the next day, and was settling in to my new little nest.  I had to book an appointment with the welfare office, and try to cover my grocery bill for the first week.  It was within walking distance, I was 'good', and walked instead of finding a bus route that would get me there.  I had to then do my first shop, and even though it IS on a convenient train route, a weeks groceries are difficult to carry by yourself.  And I made a new friend, who's gone through some similar experiences to me, and was finding their way in a new city.  Between the physical exertion of moving house, visiting the welfare office, grocery shopping, and doing some touristy things; I'm sleeping pret...

Tomorrow I move into a boarding house.  The finances are squeaky tight, and the view won't be as fabulous; but it's a forward step.  A step I've made on my own.  A step that will hopefully lead me somewhere new.  It's all happened very quickly, and I'm exhausted.  Moving home is difficult even when my brain is working fine - doing it wading through molasses is insanity. This week has been an exercise in persistence.  I've packed in small bursts.  A single drawer here, a shelf there, updating lists steadily; and I've done it.  I've even packed the first load into the car.  This is where my brain actually gives me an advantage.  Overthinking everything, means I'd mentally found and packed everything - before I physically started.  A holiday weekend gave me time to virtually pack the car a few times, to get the most squeezed in and reduce the trips to two (I hope) - without lifting a finger.  I've mentally unloaded and unpacked se...

Pathway: " a path, course, route, or way (n) "   I made one.  Last week was brutal.  The aftermath of a fraught funeral meant I spent most of the week in bed.  The exhaustion, numbness, heaviness, lethargy, and feelings of utter worthlessness; they'd all returned in full force.  I felt I was back at 'the beginning' of my Everest journey; but here's a neat trick; turns out, I didn't have to struggle as hard to find a way forward this time.  There was a 'path'.  I knew there was  a way out, I'd been there before.  This time I knew I could  get out, and that I would  improve.  It was terrifying how completely I'd fallen down; as though into a tar pit, fighting the thick, sticky, heavy, weight of it - just to move.  For five days, I barely got out of bed, barely ate, didn't shower, didn't get dressed, couldn't think, and could barely talk.  Day six, I found the beginning of the path; and it's tricky to describe...

It's been a tough couple of weeks.  A man I've known for over thirty years, a musician, a comedian, a friend, a husband, a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather; took his final breath - leaving my dearest friend and her family grieving a foundation piece of their hearts.  On hearing the news, I packed a bag, and made my way to them.  No other reaction possible.  They needed support.  I listened to their stories, added to their tears, and said farewell to a man who defied death on many occasions.  He fought so many times over the years, that in my mind, he was 'The Incredible Living Man'.  Doctors, specialists, and surgeons; all had told him he wouldn't make it - but  he kept on making it .  He refused to let go, to lie down, to give in.  During the ceremony, while his family wept, 'that' poem by Dylan Thomas was reverberating in my brain: Where did he find the strength to fight, to rage, so valiantly?  What was he fig...