A walk

 I went for a long ish walk this morning. It's way past time I got some exercise, and I know I need to spend some time away from the house.

Along the beach for an hour. We are so lucky to have this huge bay on our doorstep. 

And back along the cycle track. 

I love these trees. 

Back home - this is the crossing from the beach to where my house is, also on left is the entrance to singleton Park. It's a great place to live. 

I had hoped that going for a walk might lift the fog as it always has in the past, but it didn't. All I got was a sore hip and a stitch. 

I don't know how to think things better, I don't know how to have good thoughts or accept what I can't change. 

We were so damaged in the lockdown. I don't know why we were affected more than some others, but we were. And then we chucked it all out and started again, and that has been a really good thing. And then mum got ill again and all I can think is, it's not fair. I know I need to focus on what I have and what is good, I do know that. But I seem to have arrived at a point where I've become quite numb to all that. I rarely do anything for my own good and when I do I feel horribly guilty. I don't know what I want or need. I drink cup after cup of brutal black coffee and eat pickles and chillis that hurt my mouth. I don't exercise at all, or I do until bits hurt. I mess up again and again. When I think I used to be so optimistic so sharp, it makes me despair. Tell me it gets better.