Well, I've torn myself away from a stupidly extended argument about gun laws with a friend of a friend on facebook. Honestly. They can all fuck off.

At my counselling this Saturday we concluded that I need to find a way to offload my feelings about daughters and death and all that so we can use the counselling sessions to get to the aftermath of the sexual violence I have experienced in my life. The first lot is hard but straightforward - I hurt and I'm scared and I'm angry - well, that's the gist of it but there are specifics. It's not complicated but it boils up inside me, until it starts coming out sideways and I'm getting hurt by nonsense, scared of my shadow and angry at the way the wind blows. So I need to rant.

The other stuff is much darker and more complex. I can't manage it alone but it also boils up and manifests in my life scarily. I can become overwhelmed with the 'knowledge' that behind every net curtain acts of sexual violence are being perpetrated on vulnerable people. I don't feel scared for myself but panicked at the responsibility of stopping it, alternating with the suspicion that I'm imagining it, in which case I'm mad. Or is it real?

So I may have to rant here, quite distastefully, about members of my family, those I love very much but whose needs often have A BIG IMPACT on my calm good nature. I'm doing my gratitudes on facebook, trying to spread a little cheer.


Best news is there's going to be a Bowie tribute singalong at Glasto on the Thursday in the pyramid field, right by the kids' field. They've published a set list and asked us to learn the words - ha, learn the words, as if I didn't know them all already. I am so up for that. He has kept me company has Dave, these last months. I go on youtube and watch interviews of him being lovely or listen to this song



Night night