Potted Up Ready To Bloom

Now what were those Latin names?

I feel like I’ve had 8 shots of Vodka and my left side has got annoying patchy paraesthesia BUT at last I feel a little motivated. That surge of wanting to do has been absent from my mind the past couple of weeks because of my so-called health, which seems a contradiction when you read the definition: the state of being free from illness or injury.

My husband and I enjoyed a kofte kebab and chips then a visit to the garden centre yesterday. We walked around like tits in a trance until eventually we had a nice selection of colourful friends with their show-off Latin names. Hopefully we’ll attract butterflies and fuzzy bees again. It felt amazing to be out for both of us and the fact I can’t go out alone didn’t upset my thought processes. I’ll be discussing that detail with my neuropsychiatrist soon. Ready, set, go those twenty questions!!

Today my functional neurological disorder aka conversion disorder aka seriously what the fuck is trying to bring me back down to lack of motivation mode but I won’t let it. Bernie guided me out to our garden’s bistro set and I plonked myself down. I saw the world in stereo, felt like I was on a continuous helter-skelter whilst getting mildly electrocuted from a cattle prod. Nice huh? I managed to feel my way around the pots and press down the compost as Bernie gently scooped it in. That little sense of accomplishment is something always cherished.

As Bernie arranged and watered everything I noticed families of snails clinging on for life to where our pots were kept. I went into automatic rescue mode and fumbled around making them a snail house under the line of hawthorn trees. Basically an angled upturned pot with stones on top. I’ve always been passionate about animal rescue or Country Code euthanasia if I found one in a grave condition. Don’t judge, it’s either me immediately or a vet ages and more suffering later.

I still feel horrendous physically but mentally doing cartwheels. Little tasks managed whilst out in the fresh air has made me feel so happy and quietly proud. An imaginary high from ecstasy. Or to compete with the names of our plants, Methylenedioxymethamphetamine.

Now that your rose is in bloom
A light hits the gloom on the gray

© Copyright: Sharon Lawson™

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