Bathtime Blues and London Zoo

I promised myself I would write this year – so write, write, write I will. 

I’ve just got out of an evening bath after a chilly day at London Zoo with Erbie and friends. 

Bored gorillas, sleeping tigers, lions nowhere to be seen, the aquarium half closed and looking tired and old - much like me. Lovely llamas, a donkey, camels, macaws, the highlight was a beautiful troupe of squirrel monkeys, jumping and playing with one another, grooming, climbing and holding hands, miniature evolutionary bits of ourselves distilled in time. 

The kids asked them questions and watched in anticipation to see whether they nod or shake their tiny heads. 

‘Are you adorable?’

A ripple of awed laughter bubbles from the children as the monkey nods emphatically behind the glass.

The day ends with the obligatory exit through the gift shop, herding the children past shelves crammed with animal shaped pens, keychains and cuddly toys ranging from a lifelike Emperor penguin with chick to attachable tails. 

Cuddly Emperor penguin with chick - £30.00 London Zoo Shop

Attachable Giraffe Tail - £5 London Zoo Shop

Attachable Lion Tail - £5 London Zoo Shop

Attachable Tiger Tail - £5 London Zoo Shop

From my bath I can hear my boys playing zombies with nerf guns, fighting with the lights off. I can hear screeches of laughter and ‘I got you, I got you’.

Meanwhile I lay here thinking what if this was it. 

What if my life was nearly over. What would I recall as the most defining moments from zero to 50. It can’t all be tragedy. In fact, I used to have a pretty positive mindset. I used to proudly say I could not afford the luxury of a negative thought.

Maybe I’m just hungover in the aftermath of Christmas. I feel fear, fear of dying, not the joy of living. I keep feeling imaginary or real lumps in my neck, knotty lymph nodes that I try and talk myself out of believing are the cancer returning. 

Geez get a grip woman. They do say most tube jumpers occur around February, and I'm not talking about chunky knits here, rather the poor souls who leap to their deaths under oncoming trains, leaving the splatter crew to clear up and find their shoes afterwards. 

The shoes always come off. 

I guess the general psyche of humans is brought lower with the light levels in Winter, hence the pagan festival that involves lighting up a tree, or am I confusing pagans with Moonins. 

Presents, lights and a feast with family just after the shortest day on 21st December to chide us through the coldest months, magical. 

Just keep something wonderful in mind to look forward to when the days get longer. Or comfort yourself with ridiculously cute things like this cuddly Emperor Penguin chick from the London Zoo Shop. 

Cuddly Emperor Penguin Chick - London Zoo Shop £8.00

I don’t want beta-fricking-blockers I want neat serotonin.

I went to the doctor to get me some anti-depressants and was offered beta-blockers. 

It’s the first time I’ve opened up and said I was not really coping and I became a little overwhelmed, so I guess she thought I was having a panic attack and went straight down that road. Anyway I’ve been given some websites to look at:

moodgym, mindgym and bigwhitewall. I did not take the prescription. 

I need to see the sunshine again. 

I’ve healed my colitis (touch wood) with diet (thank-you Deliciously Ella and the internet) and the free 10 minute breathing exercises from Headspace which gave my stomach time to relax; now I need to heal my mind. 

The GR is unhappy, frustrated and angry most of the time which he takes out on his nearest and dearest - ie me, and I suppose in a way I enable that behaviour. 

Erbie has been bullied at school, on and off since starting, the Grandad is much trickier than I ever anticipated and the Belle Mere is well, The Belle Mere. 

Don’t get me started on the constant building noise from neighbours. 

All this along with a prolonged death from cancer and one suicide from a best friend, mind you that was after her sister had stabbed and killed her mother, so who wouldn’t. Oh and I had to take Erbie to that funeral as it was the same day as TheGR’s brother’s funeral, so neither of us could be there for one another. We don’t sleep in the same bed, we argue and shout, the flat looks unloved, we look unloved, everytime we pick ourselves up something else happens, when will this cycle end?

I try and put pockets of happiness in, martini’s help, Erbie is adorable, my allotment is a welcome escape but I even find that overwhelming sometimes. 

I’m offloading. 

I’ll be okay.