Grey cloud.

Walking out with the dog this morning it seemed there was a huge grey cloud draped across Arthur's Seat and Calton Hill. The rest of the sky was fine, blue, cold-looking but that's OK for November.

And it was only as I walked towards the park, Ellie snuffling around in the gutter for anything resembling food, I realised there was a grey cloud draped inside me. Not on me, but inside me.

What is it? What's causing it? How can I describe it, even? An ache, an emptiness but at the same time a fullness too. It's a drab, familiar feeling.

I want to go back to bed and skip today. But I won't do that. I'll walk the dog, and chat to the woman who swears her dog is in an amorous mood, and join with her picking up the remnants of someone's fireworks party off the grass and putting it in the bin, and smile and say cheery things. Then I'll go to the shop and buy loo rolls and eggs and all the boring things that others seem to forget about and ignore the woman with her pile of Big Issues because that feels just too difficult.

 I'll have a late breakfast then get changed and go meet my new colleagues at Edinburgh uni before going to see three clients in the Cruse Bereavement Care office and returning home later for dinner , telly and bed.

Tomorrow I will wake up feeling better... I hope.

I don't know what's causing it or where it comes from.  I could guess...there's a list as long as my arm but what good would knowing where it comes from do? Unlike my clients today I won't be seeking help or support but I'll put my head down and just get through the day, dragging my grey cloud with me.

Fucking martyr!

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