My sleep has never been worse and I am aware that my mental health is compromised. I made a spiced apple cake yesterday in celebration of the season. I cleaned the wood floors till my back ached. I was at my desk from breakfast till after supper, and then more in the night. Sleep is fitful if at all. I dreamed of India Knight, of Princess Margaret, and some poet friends and a happy lunch with garden vegetables, pale sunshine, a group of smiling dogs, an old client whom I adore, a big arm around my shoulders coaxing the energy back into me slowly. And then I was awake again with the twittering classes and the despair.
I am sitting in a wood listening to birds and it is all I can do this morning to wrestle my life back and contemplate what it is I can do to make this world a place of joy again. I am for once in my life, all out of ideas.
People come here for inspiration and joy. I know this. I don't have any to give. I look at old photos of bon mots and they feel quaint and old fashioned.
Please bare with as Miranda would say. We will claw our way back soon.
Much love 💕