I have been back from the city for a week now and feel I can finally write a blog without complaining or feeling sorry for myself. I am very tired but it is a tiredness born of physical effort and activity, which is positive because it leads to a better, more restful sleep. 😴

Back story in a nutshell is that I confronted my carer about a number of issues that arose during my absence including him opening my mail and discovering that I have a seperatesavings account into which I regularly put away a small sum for a rainy day. I have repeatedly asked him not to open my mail (not, I feel an unreasonable request given that the only mail I open is either addressed to me or at the specific request of the addressee)… The fact that it was done surreptitiously then resealed and scrunched up just infuriated me. 😬

Anyway there were many tears on my sideand much gnashing of teeth on his but over the weekendwe managed to reach an uneasy truce. On Monday we went grocery shopping in town and despite the fact he showed his anger through slammingdoors, swearing and risky driving I was glad I pushed myself to go instead of staying where I feel most comfortable (in my bed). Tuesday, Wednesday and today I have forced myself out of bed and outside for a few hours to do some light weeding, tend to the chickens and groom and walk my horse out. It doesn't sound like much when I see it written down but it really has required a supreme effort, particularly today when I just wanted to return to the numb unreality of my depressed routine. As soon as I got out into the winter sunshine this afternoon however, I acknowledged to myself that this participation in life, however uncomfortable in the moment and however small in the greater scheme of things is the first step towards my getting well. 😊