Ridgeway Cottage anyhow

At last, things are starting to get a little bit easier and I can start getting on with the whole living thing. After the overly complex stitchery I started on one of the flowers for my embroidered dress at the beginning of the week, it felt like I would never get it either right or finished. My mood darkened, but I kept at it and then suddenly it was finished. The kitchen is no longer the sensory nightmare of the last couple of months, as long as I am the only one in there. I even managed to gather a harvest from the allotment and make a potato curry with my homegrown produce. I’ve also managed to not only go properly outside but took on my own autistic/ PTSD challenge. In true over the top ADHD style, I went on a day trip to The Knitting and Stitching Show at Alexandra Palace, the perfect overwhelmingly stimulating environment to anxiously await the boy’s Kent Test results. If I can cope with needle-felted Sherlocks, then I can probably start to engage in some of those day to day act

This week has been difficult because I had a migraine. There is nothing more grounding than not being able to stand up or sip water without being sick. Strangely though, this I have felt less lost in my own world and there were times, when the headache shifted slightly, that I felt moments of real clarity.  The weather is still pleasant and the light lasts long enough for us to fit in up to three walks a day for Sherlock, although on some days I have been barely able to manage one. Being lost in my thoughts of the woods, the colours of the autumnal leaves and the crunch of acorns under foot, has been preferable to the psychological trauma associated with PTSD. Sherlock, as always, has taken his role of family pet very seriously and even when he’s not been sure of what he’s supposed to be doing, he has shown true collie commitment. Actually both pets have been showcasing their characters this week. Herbie is adamant that the weather is warm enough to remain outside and has moaned abou

I’ve had quite a lot to reflect on this week. Being given a diagnosis of post traumatic stress disorder on Tuesday has helped me to identify why I’m currently unable to live an ordinary life. My tiny house in which to keep unwanted thoughts that I can now label as PSTD. Anyone who has ever spent more than 24 hours with me, will know that one of the last I’m the last to fall asleep and the first to wake up. I challenge anyone to ever say “oh yes Susie’s your typical three meals a day girl.” If you have even seen me eat, you will probably not be surprised to hear it is out of politeness and the only people, other than my husband, to ever hear me say “I’m hungry” are direct blood relatives. This is the new dog friendly cafe at Westgate on Sea for when you’ve walked the dog in the rain. Everyone knows I have my coffee black and strong. I don’t like milk (it’s for baby cows) and it’s unlikely that I’ve had enough sleep. I started to suspect things were not as the should be a while ago but o