This last week, I have been lonely to the point of the blackest ever distraction.
It has at times been charming, seductive, all-enveloping. But mostly it is simply black.
I have no idea what has happened. Nothing has changed. Life continues as normal. Me and The Teenager still have a laugh, although mostly him laughing at me for not having seen the youtube clip of Emma Stone lip-synching to something or other (honestly, not that great).
He has called up Domino’s pizza to complain that he didn’t have a thin-crust as ordered and was promptly delivered a free one. A good point to discuss the market economy and its wider implications (no?) until he took said pizza plus our jumbo-sized tomato sauce upstairs to Skype like-minded friends. (yeah!!!! Wicked!!!! You should try it!!!!!).
Anyway. Black. I know depression is a feature of MS. I laughed it off to start with. I’m 40, reason enough to be a little down that I am still a ‘divorced single parent, with Teenager, cat, MS and compost heap’.
But this is different. I can’t seem to shake it off. Which makes me a lousy friend. Don’t get me wrong, work is fine, more than fine. I’ve finally found something I’m actually quite good at, apart from picking up towels and washing rugby boots.
I said to myself this morning, ‘you must be nice to everyone you meet’. Which meant letting everyone into the traffic. At rush hour. Not bad. It worked. I waved and was waved back. Lovely. I stopped off at the shop and bought some black pudding (long story).
After work, I got home. The blackness once more. My dream of someone, anyone, recognising that I am actually a nice person to be with, fading into the background. I am alone. I have a fabulous son, a beautiful house, a great life and ,um, MS, but life is good, so why don’t I go along with the ride?
I am an introvert right now. I don’t really know who I am, post-MS. Everything has changed without me keeping up to speed. I think I have been left behind.