The Blues

I've had a real fit of the blues. I wasn't sure whether to write this posting here or to make light of it and write up my feelings over on "And - who Cares ...." . I've been trying to keep that blog more light hearted. Fun. Friends and laughter. But - yet - this blog I've not really used when I feel really low. I have tried to be truthful about how My Man and I are battling to come to terms with life now as it really is. So tonight I've come on to say - I've had the blues all week.
My Man, as I've said previously, is adjusting to 'being less able' (it sounds less hard than 'disabled'). He was, a few days ago, quite keen on trying a couple of days away - for a change of scene. As he is unable to travel far I started to look for a hotel within 1/2 hour travel time. The most he is able to manage. Not Exeter - we've been there - for hospital appointments. So I started to explore Somerset and Dorset. I collected several brochures from Sidmouth Tourist Information Centre. I started to read and make possible plans. Dreaming of a much needed and welcome break away - together. Where we could go for a gentle stroll, read the papers, look out over rolling fields, a babbling river and gambolling lambs. We could then chat together over dinner, as we used to -enjoying the luxury of meals magically prepared by someone else - a Chef. I could feel the gloom start to lift at the thought. I pondered on Beaminster area - from where we could explore Bridport and see the new harbour at West Bay. Or at a hotel - an old converted farmhouse north west of Yeovil. From where we could visit the air museum at Yeovilton and see Concorde. Which I thought would give him pleasure.
But then My Man started to say he didn't want to go to Bridport as "we can do that on a day trip" . Regardless of the fact that he's not felt well enough to travel 'that far' for over 4 years. He's not keen on the converted farmhouse as it has conference facilities and is probably full of business men - not to mention the helicopters from Westland - the noisy flightpath etc etc. He wants a quiet relaxing break. At a hotel that's not full of old people. He doesn't want a hotel that allows children either. And no conference centres as businessmen (now that he's no longer a clan member) are noisy, rowdy and inconsiderate. I'm not sure that we do really want a quiet relaxing break. Surely we are quiet here at home. Any quieter and we wont be living. Any quieter and we'll have even less to talk about to each other.
I wonder whether his talk of wanting to get away for a short break is just that - talk. I've given up looking now. And of dreaming. He has the brochures - if he is interested he'll look and see if he can find his perfect holiday break away. But it may be that he feels safer at home. Once we used to be able to tell each other of our hopes, dreams and fears. But now I'm left trying to guess and read the meaning behind the words - a hidden language. I also am not quite as truthful as I used to be - the truth would be too hurtful. The nearest we come nowadays to honest talk is when we end up sniping irritably at each other. We don't argue; if I bite back he soon tells me I don't understand how he feels. That is an argument stopper. I am angry and frustrated. Just as he is. He thinks I am unaware of how he feels and I think he doesn't know how I feel. That's why I have a fit of the blues.