Grumpalot and the Crochety-Witch

Yes, despite my 30-days of Happiness, I have been dwelling in the land of Grumpalot behaving like a right old fish wife for the last week. In my defence I have been heavily, pre-menstrually hormonal and therefore a bit of a weepy, irritable and waspish mess. This leads directly to Grumaplot without passing go and without getting anywhere near $200.

So - I have been trying not to give in to it and have focused my attention on the little things in the day that make me happy. (*Generally anything containing chocolate). And I have found happiness every day which has been uplifting if only for a moment or two.

The second reason for my Crotchety-Witchypooness is due to my darling daughter deciding to wake up at 5am instead of 6am for the last 3 days. She has also been waking up screaming at 12.30 every night for the last 3 weeks, necessitating the Hubble moving into her roome very night from then until morning! Lonely bed for mummy and uncomfortable nights for Daddy. Our sofa bed needs throwing out to be honest. Every time you get into it all the blood rushest to your head! It's never been the same since the stupid 12 year old removalists we hired let it drop out of the unsecured back of the removal van. These are also the boys who put our microwave on top of our beautiful wooden table with nothing in between resulting in two deep scars in the wood! Dickheads!

Third reason for crochety state is that aforementioned darling daughter has stopped eating anything remotely resembling food and osscilates between demanding 'Bic! bic!' (her word for biccies) and 'Weeuws' (her word for, you guessed it, the Wiggles). this has been very frustrating for me because she flat out refuses to even taste the food in front of her most of the time. If she does eat it she will pick out the pasta, or the cheese and leave whatever veggies are in it. It drives me craaaayyyyzeeeeee.

So - for these three reasons I have been less than chipper in general. I have been short tempered with Hubble and frustrated with bubsy. I have also been beyond tired. If there is something magical that I can do that will make me feel somewhere approaching human, I would be glad to know of it. I am taking vitamins and tonics from the naturopath but still I feel like a washed out dishrag.

Anywhoo, I am about to begin week 3 of my 30-day meditation programme and I am slowly working my way through all the of the tasks in my Artists Way. It's been interesting to see from where the blows have come to my creativity. It took me a few days to remember the abusive principal of my post-graduate drama course in Oxford and the way he systematically made my life a living hell. He is, for the record, a tool. A tool who should NEVER, EVER be allowed to teach - ANYONE. I won't go into the horrible, stupid and selfish things he did to us as students nor the very obvious dislike he had for me. I told him I thought he was a terrible teacher (though no perhaps with a tad more diplomacy than he ever used)so I at least didn't lie down and let him walk all over me like some of the more timid students did. He was responsible for almost destroying my love of Shakespeare - thankfully it was rescued by a lovely voice teacher from The Royal Shakespeare Company at the end of the course. Anyway, as an actor he made me feel less than useless and he never took a single minute to think about the way he talked to me or whether what he said was an honest appraisal or just vindictiveness. Mostly it was the latter. Like the day he told me taht I had never felt anything deeply, he could tell by my eyes. I was, at that moment in time, in the midst of the most painful separation of my life and was struggling to stay on top of a crippling year long depression (only realised in hindsight). Like I said. A tool.

So - the creative process is unfolding, the wounds are being revealed, the scabs are being peeked under and the healing is underway. At least I hope it is!

I'm going to grump off now to the coffee table for a muffin and some tea.