Friday 13th

It wasn't the mad masked man, Jason Voorhees, who showed up to ruin the day but my own bad penny version. I wish I was strong enough not to let it turn me upside down but I guess I never will be. The worst part is that it worked it's way between Eldest son and so I sit tonight with a gut-wrenching sadness.

At times like this, I feel adrift, that I wish it would end. Even though I'm aware of how completely unreasonable I'm being. Ten years on and I should have moved away from this but I can't and that's something I have to deal with. Perhaps it's me. It's probably me.

I mustn't leave it like this so here is a comforting image from Elsa Beskow. I've lost my inspiration to draw and paint, I need to get that back, for my own wellbeing. Let that be the anchor that holds me fast when all is churning around me.