I’m currently hugging my Nugget. Not a euphemism. Many of you are familiar with Ian, my large penguin plushie. Well Nugget has been recruited to share the workload. Ian is responsible for bedroom huggles, while sofa squishes fall to Nugget. It seems to be working so far.

So I’m hiding under my pink blankie with Nugget the penguin. I’m just absolutely done this week. I have got a couple of workouts in, been to get my nails done, made numerous trips to the post office and/or pharmacy, two station pickups, and made a wasted trip to the dentist.

That stressed me out. Since having a traumatic appointment last year I’d got in the habit of asking Martin to take me. However now Martin is working I got all brave and went by myself. First I struggled to park, then they broke to me that the new denture I was expecting to be fitted hadn’t actually arrived from the lab. I wasn’t best pleased. I’d summoned all my courage to face my anxieties around both parking the car and seeing the dentist himself, just to be sent home again.

Martin is absolutely thriving in his new joy. It’s a joy to see. So why am I feeling so discombobulated? I did say to him the other night, I feel like I’ve supported him so much over the last 3 years, and now it’s as if we’ve taken the stabilisers off his bike, and as he rides off into a bright and exciting future, I’m just stood here watching him go. I’ve done my bit and now I’m redundant. If I’m honest it’s a similar feeling to following Andrew’s death when my caring role ended abruptly.

I am happy for Martin. Really happy. He’s outgoing and gregarious (unlike me). He is in his element interacting with a team of colleagues. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him chuckle so much. But I feel almost as if I’m missing out on something.

I have resigned myself to the fact that my mental health and physical constraints have rendered me pretty much unemployable. My life’s work is centred on keeping myself well now. And I’m generally content, in that I’ve exercised radical acceptance regarding my situation. So why do I feel so damn useless right now?

I know it’s October. Followed by November. Obviously. Sad anniversary season when I remember the losses of Andrew and my Mum. As if I ever forgot, but you know what I mean. Even all these years on I struggle to escape the pain. I appreciate this isn’t ever a great time of year for me. But there’s definitely more on my mind. A sense of obsolescence.

Hopefully time will work its magic. Something’s got to give. Having spent years justifying why I don’t have a job I am left frustrated by my current insecurities that perhaps, yes, I am just a lazy benefits sponger.

Concurrently, the menopause (lack of) hormones continue to ravage me. I watch my hair getting thinner by the day. My skin managing a dry and oily combo of which I’ve never before seen the like. I am continually striving to shed more weight, yet my mildly shrinking body gives me no pleasure. I feel ugly and I don’t look like the person I always knew. I struggle to feel womanly when I look in the mirror and an old hag stares back at me.

I clearly need a little more radical acceptance. Or maybe a holiday by the sea, that might help. And quality time with my bestie. Watch this space.