'Fortitude Overcome by Grace in the Absence of Hope"

Aww if only.....

One of the few things I have been able to do, over the weekend... that is long enough to feel the quality..is to read. Yep, it's a quote from 'Tennyson's Gift' and, if the author is to be believed, Tennyson was so despised for his lack of personal hygiene and an insinstance on reciting his poetry until people fell off their chairs (sleeping or died). I don't believe everything I read. If and when my brain/body decides there is a balance to be got will have to try and find out more of the truth of the man.

I am sure there is more depth to the title than I can imagine (particularly now as my grey matter struggles to hold on to any sense of much of anything).

It just struck me as relevant, somehow. I have this image of the Grand National in my head, A totally abhorant excuse for sport that only proves that greed wins out above everything. Anyway, there's the hardy perenials (or plain dumb arses) forcing horses over Beeches Brooke and there's me.... still looking up at the first hurdle (horse already bolted).

I sometimes think there really is method in my madness because life is a struggle and some... that is either unless you have sussed that you have to be an arse licker to get on or have got to the point where everyone is licking your arse. To be stuck in my box does serve (mostly) to keep me from enduring more of the world's madness which I simply cannot endure.

Okay so I am not down a pit 16 hours a day..well not in the physical meaning... but my brain, soul, psyche..the whole damn sharabang is knackered out.

I would love 'Grace' to take the helm. I had an Auntie Grace who epitomised her name. She was gentle, kind, sweet and incredibly tolerant. I am kind...I think I was standing at Mr Whippy's waiting for me 99 when the rest of those qualities were being dished out.

For sure 'fortitude' has succumbed to 'relentless batterings' and 'Hope' has occasionally shown themselves but scarpered pretty sharpish.

I rally (erratically) but the strong days are replaced by weaker ones (and too fekkin' many of them). Perhaps, I should be dead by now? Is not as melodramatic as it seems. Perhaps some people aren't meant to endure or perhaps some people have more to endure than they can cope with? And really when the mind is buggered up what it needs more than anything is rest (and some quality activities that don't have it twisting itself into more knots).

Anyway, am rambling. My view is when you are fekked, you are fekked. Some people may be better able to unfekk themselves or tolerate the fekked-up ness but I wave the flag of 'fekked-ness'.

I don't even mind being shown up as the party pooper who won't join the recovery party and must spend the rest of her life shunned by all 'recovering nicely thank you very much'...SHAME ON ME. In spite of what the MH Director insists is in my best interests and that has been drummed home with his constant reference to my father being 'subject to meeting fair access to care criteria'. If anyone knows what that actually means, apart from being a possible get out clause, feel free to enlighten me!!!!

So...I shall huddle back down with the book and try and lose myself some more in someone else's fantasy.

P.S. Would also be interested to find out how long it takes for Tamiflu to do anything.

Here's the kind of Grace I can relate to: