In light of the day’s devastating events in London, that title might seem crass …but it is what I’m feeling, little me, in bed, at home, facing my own terror. 

I’m torn between terror and desolation, or perhaps I’m feeling them both at the same time. It’s difficult to tell; I’m very disconnected, dissociated perhaps. It would take many more words than I could manage to write now to explain it.

That disconnection makes it very difficult for me to blog. I’m trying. There’s a dense fog obscuring my communication highway and terrors lurk within in it. 

If you read this, let me know you’re there, it will help. 

More soon, I hope.  

Thank you. x 

12 thoughts on “Terror

  1. Hope this will pass for you soon. Stay wrapped up in bed, feeling the warmth being under the covers and the textures of fabrics on your bed.
    If you have a fleecy blanket, have that under your blankets/duvet, or on top, so you can feel the texture.
    I find a fleecy blanket and making myself a drink to start with when I was like this, along with smelling a nice relaxing perfume, or lavendar to hand.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks so much for your lovely, insightful comment.
      It’s difficult to feel especially comfortable in bed just now as I’ve been living in it 24/7 for the most part of six weeks, and it’s two weeks since I washed/changed it or myself. None of which is usual for me.

      However, I’m thinking on your suggestion of a fleecy blanket, I may have one to hand. I definitely have lavender. Watch this space.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Hi Heart, sad to hear of your struggles but in a strange way it’s good to know you’re about. You know what I mean. The offer’s here if there’s anything I can do to help even if that means hanging on for a while until you’re better able to speak. We’ve both been here before in our different ways and I hope you’re back on an even keel sooner rather than later. However it might look right now, you’re not alone xx

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, lovely.
      It’s very difficult to speak at the moment. Shame amd terror seem to be rendering me mute. I know, hard though that is to believe 😉 #chatterbox
      Good to know you’re there.
      Support here is non-existent, it’s difficult, if not impossible, at the moment to see how that could change. I’ve driven myself into the ground trying to drive that change.


  3. I am sorry to read that you are in such a state. In one way, it is positive, in that it got you blogging about it. That means that you are at least communicating with the outside world.
    I am ‘still there’, and intend to remain there.
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. […] It’s been a weekend of sunshine where I live: all clear blue skies and brightness. I’ve witnessed it fleetingly through my kitchen window. I ache to be out there, on a sunlit and ‘spring-embracing’ walk, but I shroud that desire and, to cope, focus instead on my alternative sunshine. I have food, I have some contact with friends, I’ve slept, I’ve been reading, I’m cleaner, I’M WRITING AGAIN, a vital meeting is set to take place tomorrow, I think there may be hope; there may not be enough hope. I’ll concentrate on the first part, leaving the latter part of that sentence – oh God, how it feels like a sentence to be served –  to languish in the fog.  […]


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