Christmas Time - Tis the Season to be Jolly

It's reached that time of year again. When we are inclined to reflect on the last year. What we hoped to achieve. The changes we'd hoped to make. The changes we did or didn't make. The lost opportunities. And the chance to look forward to new opportunities; new beginnings, new dreams, hopes, aspirations.

I remember writing last year that Christmas was going to be a very low key affair with no socialising. But as it is the time of year when I'm affected by winter sadness I've always been inclined to make Christmas an 'event'. To raise my spirits before dreary January sets in. Decorate a sparkling clean house. Shop, bake, cook and entertain. Party time. So far I've shopped. The house is far from sparkling. The decorations are down from the loft but remain in the box.

It's MyMan's birthday on Christmas day. Traditionally I've always made the first half of the day Birthday time with gifts and cards. Then after the traditional lunch we've enjoyed afternoon tea and cake with the opening of Christmas presents. Sometimes just the two of us. Others with family or friends. Sometimes away from home. MyMan has always said he thinks 'Christmas is not worth the effort'. In the days when he used to go out and about he would buy me gifts. He would get several small presents. Some were daft, scented, funny or thoughtful. I'm like a child at Christmas. I loved opening them. And appreciated every one. He used to make an effort to enjoy the season because I did. I still try to make an event of his birthday. But we haven't exchanged Christmas gifts for years. I miss that.

Over the last few years he's continued with the view that Christmas is not worth the effort. But now he makes no effort at all. I am tired; physically and mentally. I'm still trying to make some effort but I question whether it is really worth the energy I am expending on it. It brings him no cheer. And I can't be cheerful when there is no one to share in joy or laughter. And yet if I don't make the effort then his depression has defeated the two of us.

He made a real effort last year and we did have a couple of small social events. One at home and one with local friends. But each event caused additional stress and tension. His anxiety at socialising builds so much I no longer derive pleasure from the events. It just highlights how much we have changed. I never know till we actually come to walk out the door whether or not he will come with me. I feel even more of a carer when we are out together. So it's not a relaxing way to spend an evening. I need energy to cope. There is no way I would socialise without him over the festive season. So it does look like being a very quiet 4 day weekend.

At the end of last year he said how he would 'go mad' if he didn't have a break away from home. I was hopeful that I would be able to book us into our favourite Devon hotel for a Christmas break this year. We used to enjoy the holiday season there. But it is not to be. Home is where he feels able to cope. He's not happy but he is happier at home. Preferably quietly at home. Maybe, hopefully, next Christmas we'll feel seasonally cheerful . . .

Death of a Friendship 2

The previous post of Death of a Friendship was written in the early hours during another sleep disturbed night at home. Unfortunately insomnia gives one too much time to dwell on worries, concerns and hurt feelings. I have been mentally composing a letter to my 'friend' to explain why I no longer wish to keep in contact. I've just written it this morning. I'm not sure whether it will get as far as the post box as I'm still thinking of her feelings. She has sent me a text a couple of times since we parted. But I've not replied.

I'd been looking forward to meeting up with Kay again for a reunion of old colleagues. She had joked about no one turning up and our sitting there together feeling like 'Billy No Mates ...' I thought it a joke. If no one turned up then they either [a] had no interest in seeing either of us again or [b] had more pressing things to do during the weekend. If I was alone for the reunion I would have taken along a good book and settled down in a corner to wait to see who arrived.

I'd arranged our accommodation. I'd gone for the cheap option; B&B via the English Tourist Board as Kay had said she wanted to keep costs down. She wasn't at all keen to "spend £75 on a single room at a hotel as she had so many treats" planned for 2008. I could see on the website that one room looked much larger than the other but I didn't request that room ahead of our arrival - it didn't seem 'fair' to just bag it. On our being shown the rooms she immediately chose the larger of the 2. I did ask her if she had a preference. She turned towards me as if to ask which I preferred and then changed tack swiftly declaring to the owner "I'll take this one". I had expected to have some polite chat about our preferences and if necessary to make the decision with a toss of a coin. I was taken aback; very disappointed and speechless. After the journey up the M5 I was feeling tired, wrung out and travel weary. I get giddy and dizzy after a drive. My brain/mouth co-ordination slows down and I couldn't articulate what I was thinking.

After an evening spent in a local pub over a disappointingly tasteless bar snack we strolled back to the B&B. I had to dose up on painkillers as my back and knees were particularly stiff and painful. I then found out the room was cold, damp and mouldy around the window frames. Kay was lolling on her bed watching TV. She prefers to loll rather than sit in chairs. She wasn't using either of the 2 comfortable chairs in her room. I had one small slipper chair wedged against the bed and the wall. No chance to sit and read in comfort or to fill in my daily diary. I then experienced 2 hours sleep but was awake from 1.15 in a cold damp bedroom with barely room to swing a little mouse. As the night wore on I started to feel resentful.

With only 2 hours sleep it meant the next day passed in a sleep deprived haze. I felt nauseous, increasingly stiff and struggled to keep up with conversation and exploring the area. Kay seemed impervious to how I was feeling. Eventually at 3 p.m we stopped in a hotel for afternoon tea. Kay blithely telling me I had to stay awake till late or I'd have trouble sleeping again.

The hotel was blissfully warm. It was cosy. It was clean. It was welcoming. It had rooms available. I'd talked to reception on a trip to the ladies powder room. There were single rooms from £75/ Or, for myself, a large superior spacious double bedroom at £115 a night. I was all for returning to the B&B Guest House - checking out and moving in to the hotel. But Kay was almost in tears ... she was annoyed that I'd think of moving on ... she was concerned about upsetting the feelings of the B&B owner ... when I explained that at this rate I wouldn't have the energy to get to the reunion she then started to worry about going to the event alone. She told me that I should have booked us into a hotel if I was incapable of accepting smaller more cramped accommodation. She suggested that I stay at the B&B another night when exhaustion should help me sleep better (a fair point, but ..) if I had another bad night I could go to the reunion and then drive home afterwards. Although she agreed with me she would find the journey after the event hard to do she would do the same as she "couldn't remain at that grotty B&B" without me.

It was therefore clear to me she could or would not remain in "that grotty B&B" without me. She would rather upset me than offend the owner of the B&B. I'd expected to do the dirty deed myself of extricating ourselves and if necessary pay a cancellation fee after I'd expressed my disappointment on the state of the room. It was also clear she felt incapable of meeting up with old colleagues without me.

She did kindly tell me that in her opinion, I'd placed "too much importance on this weekend away" as I not had any other holidays. And she thought I should on my return home book into The Woolacombe Bay Hotel for a relaxing break before Christmas. It was at that stage I broke down and shed tears over the tea tray. I realised then it was the Death of our Friendship. I cried for what I thought I'd had and had found out that I hadn't had at all. A good friend.

She has listened but she has not heard. Over the last 6 years I've talked over the difficulties we faced at home. Of how hard I find it to take time out for myself. To get away. She has obviously not understood one word I've said. I have tried to keep up my end with the fun and laughter. But I have so little energy I cannot squander it. This weekend with her felt as if my remaining energy was being sucked from me.

It seemed so very important to her that we did not decamp to the warmth of the hotel. I gave up the idea. I was by that time so distressed the hotel couldn't have cured what ailed me. Regardless of how warm and comforting it was. A drug induced sleep helped me to feel a little better and to get through the next day. But the 3rd night was once again sleepless. That along with an allergic reaction to something in that room saw me driving home as speedily as possible with a rapidly swelling face and an itchy rash.

All Drained Out

I feel all drained out. MenopausalOldBag left a comment to the effect that she is "in awe of your patience and compassion". I must admit that both feel a bit low "at the moment". MyMan said a couple of hurtful remarks over the weekend. I just accepted them in the manner which they were thrown. When he's hurting he feels as if everyone and everything is against him. I'm a kind of safe outlet for some of his anger and frustration.

But Monday morning he also had another go. I felt he wasn't being 'fair'. I had neither the patience nor the fortitude to take it. Compassion didn't even raise it's head. I told him that if he didn't like what I do then he can get on and take over the task himself. Shopping is not one of my favourite chores. It does rank a little above hoovering but not much. By the time you've - trailed around the superstore chosen the items, filled the trolley, emptied the trolley, repacked it all, paid for it, driven it all home, carried it indoors and then stored it all away - I am heartily sick of dealing with it. Then every few days I have to go out to collect the 'fresh' stuff from the butcher, the baker, the greengrocer and the dairy. I would much rather sit and read a book. Well, to be honest, I don't mind the fresh food shopping as that is usually done in small shops where you get to meet and socialise with other people.

Supermarket shopping is not such fun. I only go to superstores once a month. There is always something I need that is not in stock. I find the trolley hard to manoeuvre when I'm stiff and aching. A moment of careless tiredness and I'd inadvertently picked up a pack of prunes with the stones in. He nearly lost a tooth. He suggested that I take 'more care' in future.

After a few choice words when I told him he is welcome to shop in future I left to meet a friend for coffee in town. I left home half an hour early as I had promised myself a good walk along the seafront at Sidmouth. But by the time I had parked it was raining heavily. It seemed the last straw - so I sat for 20 minutes alone in the car and wept.