Saturday. Started in on Step Four, the moral inventory, and was immediately overcome by a feeling of guilt and dread.
Most encouraging quote, discovered on Sunday: ‘The moral inventory is a cool examination of the damages that occurred to us during life and a sincere effort to look at them in a true perspective. This has the effect of taking the ground glass out of us, the emotional substance that still cuts and inhibits.’ ~Bill W, 1957
I am not really ready to do this yet. Especially alone without guidance. Sitting here and noting the despondency, the feeling of being unable to get any further. In part because I am trying to do too much on my own. Too much to try and recall all at once, too much unfinished business. New-found peace vanishing. This quote from one of my sites: ‘Conscience is what hurts when everything else feels so good.’
Fierce winds all afternoon. A neighbour, a shy and fussy elderly bachelor, came in with a wrapped parcel to show me a curious pedestal jardinière he had bought somewhere. I thought it ugly but with Empire lines, possibly an 1830 piece. Handpainted china under-plate of a country church, with a flower border, gauche blues and pinks. He thought the funny little object ravishing and told me has hankered after it for 40 years. I pretended admiration. Out in the street, a huge branch had been wrenched from a keurboom tree.
Sunday, 99 days. Woke up and decided to lighten up. Not beat up on myself, not try to force everything, not get into a knot of anxiety about things I can’t control. Very awkward time with Una’s sister in Worcester. Brunch with A.’s kind friends. I feel her eating disorder is getting worse (at the age of 50). Careless and dismissive talk about local therapists getting a divorce, the psychiatrist leaving his wife for a psychologist from another Boland town. Does nobody have any boundaries? A. seeing these people professionally. Disconcerting to realize how much she keeps from us. But leaving, I felt sorry for her and glad that Una is prepared to see her regularly with no hard feelings. A very difficult, troubled woman struggling to get over her divorce. The green budgie snickering in its cage.
Came back and posted on two sites, glad to have done so, paying attention to the tone and reading other people’s comments, trying to interact as much as possible. Worrying about work, the travel pieces, planning to start them tomorrow. Noting the procrastination but acknowledging the work done elsewhere on another area of my life. Hoping for a good night’s sleep — the temperature dropping, the village still and wrapped in a muffled quiet, occasional rushes of wind.