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Seer of ghosts & weaver of stories

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Restlessness & Discontent
I've seen better days.

James being in London and me being in Leeds for four weeks has been, in a word, rough. Actually, it's been more like five weeks, because I left to visit family in New Mexico a week before he had to move down to London (the day before I got home). I'm going down to see him today, however, and staying through Sunday, and I'll be going back again the weekend of 12 November. We'll be able to move into the Forest Hill flat sometime in the first week of December.

In the meantime, everything is colorless and strange. I struggle to articulate myself, except to people around whom I feel particularly comfortable, and even then, it's a challenge. I hate this grey October, and I normally love October. Even the fact that Halloween is my favorite holiday isn't cheering me up terribly much. There's some party-thing we're attending in Limehouse tomorrow night, and I hope there will be quirky people about, odd conversations to be had. I want anything but what I have right now. I'm not depressed; I know depressed. But everything inside my head seems more interesting at the moment than everything outside it. I feel like I'm pressing my cheek and hands to glass every time I try to interact with the world outside. I don't feel like banging, though. That's the worrying part.

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The weekend in London should help things a bit, love.

I know the feeling well. This month has been particularly draining and horrible, I think, for all sorts of reasons. I don't know anyone who's coming out of it in a good place.

Things will get better though.

My year took a bad turn in June, and never looked back. I'd give anything not to have to worry about a visa renewal in January, about our long-term security here, about anything. I want to lie down and sleep, but then I can't sleep, because that's when the muses come out to play and kick up my pulse. I'm a thrill-seeker of a writer; all night long, all for the high of it. And then there's daylight, the drab horror of it. I don't think I'm expressing this very well.

DW I know what you mean. Daylight can be the thing that makes you want to give up on everything, especially in England, especially about now. Not a lot I can say to help except that I do the same thing at times and I'm around and at your disposal whenever you need/want me to be.

When I'm back from London on Sunday night, I'll check my calendar and let you know what looks open. Rereading for a freelance writing gig is taking up a lot of my time right now, and when I'm not doing that, I'm writing. But it was good to see you the other weekend, and I still have more than half a bottle of that shattered-and-replaced rum left. Third of a bottle of the really nice one, too.

You're, heh, bored. Not the restless, passing boredom people usually associate with the word, but the prolonged boredom where it feeds back on itself, all grey and dragging until you just don't care about anything. (Boredom and depression are related though.) And lonely, which doesn't help. Good that you're going to see James and other people. If there aren't odd conversations, start one. Or five.

This, my friend, is ennui. You're absolutely right. And loneliness drives me inward, and inward means I'm going to be trawling that deep, dark sea of words. Water creature. Just lose me in it, leave me down there. I'm certainly more useful like that.

Yep, ennui.

Ah ah ah. No. Up here. There's more to you than your use. First, get out of the house. Nothing perpetuates lonely boredom like rattling around alone. Do something really different. Finger paint on the bathroom mirror. Find a park, feed the ducks, and photograph them. Use the zoom on the ducks. Use the zoom on the BREAD. Study the air pockets that make it rise. Go to a cafe or restaurant and fold origami out of whatever paper you can find. Leave what you make behind and imagine people finding it.

(Ha, I'm all air. You're describing my near-perpetual state if not checked.)

Don't know if there will be time for St. James's, given tomorrow's planned antics. We'll see!

Take this feeling over consciously.

What is happening inside your brain is the knowledge that 'home' is no longer 'home', particularly as it is sans James. Deliberately unpick your attachments to the rooms, building, environment and people you know but will never see or talk to again. Plan these things on a very visible calendar, along with the major dates of leaving work, packing non-essentials then essentials, emptying the house, having the meters read and handing over the keys. Make the saying goodbye a deliberate act. This will keep your brain occupied and you'll find the actual leaving date arrives quite quickly as you cross the Done things off your calendar.

The other side of the coin will be the excitement of starting afresh. Take your calendar to the new flat and continue as before until a new routine is settled. I have never kept a calendar until I retired but now I wouldn't be without it. :D

I think the problem is that I've already too thoroughly detached myself. I'm moving through space that holds no comforts for me. The result is that I'm anchorless and quiet, but if I set my hands on a keyboard or to paper, a lot will happen. It's not a nice feeling, though. I don't like not feeling things.

(I keep a diary. It's running out of pages by the day, thank goodness.)

I know the feeling of being inside your head watching the world on the outside. I was also far more interested in what was going on in my head than what the external world had to offer. I'm sure you will be back to normal soon. Probably just missing hubby.

Missing the hubby, hating the revisions on the Ph.D. I still have to tie up, hating the sheer boredom that is my existence right now. And the more I create for myself to do (and that's a lot, I'm sure you know), the more the boredom steps up to the challenge.

Bad state. Ugh. Thank you *hugs*

Hopefully, spending the weekend with James will put you back on the path to normal. Have a good weekend!

I've caught up on some lost sleep, anyway. That's a start.

Some very good comments here. All I can offer is *hugs*, but they are warm and plentiful.

There's something dreadful about grey feelings, I think - they're far worse than black, tumultous feelings.

The weather's beautiful down here, nicer than in Leeds. I could almost believe it's October in Boston, the way the leaves in this city are changing.

Oh! Autumn in London. I really miss it - one of my favourite flavours of London.

Luckily, Helsinki has been beautiful this autumn, too. Now we've shifted to the grey-skies-and-drizzle phase, though... But the clear days and blazing leaves were amazing while they lasted.

I'm so sorry to hear that you are feeling down, and I desperately hope that everything will work out for you, with the visas and stuff - you deserve it! I'm holding my fingers crossed that your visit to London cheers you up a bit. *hugs*

*hugs* Thanks, dear. I've been here about 24 hours, and I think I'm feeling somewhat better, anyway. London is tiring in its own right when you're running around in the midst of Halloween festivities...

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Thanks, Brie *hugs* That's some good advice. I haven't been reading as much as I should lately.

I... no, I can't do coherent response. *hugs you*

*hugs* That's perfectly all right. Je comprends.

Everyone else has been so articulate, that I can't help but think my words would be pointless. Just know that everyone has those grey, contained days, and that you are moving away from them, helped by seeing James this Sunday. *Hugs*

Well, I got here last night, and I'm here through tomorrow evening. I won't be thrilled to leave, as it'll mean a couple weeks before I'm back again. The problem's really just Leeds, I think. I'm indignant at being stuck there alone for the moment.

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Getting there, darling. I hope.


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