Swimming...or drowning?

Tonight was 40 lengths. And I needed it.

I began the day feeling quite bright and breezy, the aim to be in early to sort paper work out for a day of interviewing. So I was in at 9ish and ready to go. Planned. By me. For the benefit of those of us interviewing. It then became a necessity. It wound me up.

It's those small things that wind me up during this, what can best be described as my 'werewolf week'.

Interviewing is also painful. If in the wrong frame of mind. It is like having a mirror held up to your face. All the questions. How would I answer? What do I take from the responses we give? Do I feel like that? Having stood over a photocopier and printer for 20 minutes. No.

But then I think I am being irrational. This is all part of my job. It just feels like a step backwards.

It feels like I am an alien force in the team. For 2 days a week I am. The only walking werewolf. Sorry I meant, woman.

I had a vile meeting on Friday afternoon where essentially my professionalism was called into question and I was basically told how to run my project. I sat calmly. Inside I wanted to explode and vent 6 months of project frustration. This afternoon I sat with the colleague working with me on the piece of work and apologised. I let him down by not calling the pointless meeting to a halt the minute I knew the other party was posturing. I have let him down because we are going in circles and I don't feel capable of dealing with it. My attentions and sense of duty pulling in at least 20 other directions. Trying to cover 1, or rather, 2 absent members as well as continue my own role. On a good day I rise to the challenge. On a bad day I struggle to remain personable. I just get those days when I want someone to ask me if I got home okay on Friday. If I enjoyed myself. If I had a good weekend. Am I okay.

Not everyday do I want this. I am fickle. A werewolf. But today I just wanted to be treated as if I were still valued. Not taken for granted.

So I get to swimming. And I swim. 40 lengths of breast stroke - I am getting better. 800m. 30minutes. Still not Olympic speeds. And I swim and I think. I think I am over reacting to tiny details. I think my behaviour is reminiscent of school days. Karen home from school. Sulk. Charge upstairs to bedroom. Sing loudly hoping the world will leave me in peace. Or rather that someone will pay me some attention. That someone will understand me. Not that I think anyone has fully managed that yet.

I am being emotionally unfair. I have plenty of attention at the moment. Thanks to Sparky - who despite his distance and heart aching reasons for being in Oz is making an effort to email and text as much as poss. The Actor has been making me smile immensely. And others drop me notes. Mel from Bar school texted to say thanks for B-day wishes. Camilla texted to say hospital and midwife visit today - no further news. Mazza and Pops text. My bro pops up occasionally. Lisa rang Sunday morning (after the Archers - well trained!) for a good long chat. There are just certain people I feel so distant from. Or that maybe I should be distant from.

These emotions bring out a very dark side in me. I cannot explain them - or how it makes me react. The hormones race through me and create eddy's of hatred and bile. They just spark the beginnings of the place I was in during June/July. When I broke down in front of people. When I stopped talking. Stopped writing. Stopped loving myself. A place where I shut all the people out who truly care for me. I got through it and returned to something near normal he hem. I fear sinking. I fear being drawn back to the deep end.

You see, I almost feel happier just getting some thoughts out on paper, as it were. Now I can go to bed without stewing on an argument.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe someday.

Swim, Forest, Swim.