Actual crisis

A google search for 'femdom motorbike', apparently
Because the solution to all mid-life crises is a 22-year-old
girlfriend and motorbike... 

Yep, I reckon this is it.  This is the big one.  The mid-life crisis.

It's been a rough four weeks, and I'm feeling at a very low ebb, and last night I had a chat with Furiosa.

And it was good.


It's pretty much the issues described in my previous post, but here's some re-iteration, with added insight from Furiosa:

I don't know what I want to do.  Strip away all my anxieties about work performance and housework, and I'd be quite happy sitting around the house doing absolutely nothing with my life.  If she didn't go to work, Furiosa would do the garden, read everything, go out and see people, go swimming, knit, bake and generally be active and outgoing.  I need a hobby that isn't my sexual fantasies and attendant programming / captioning / scripting.  A couple of ideas were mooted:  indoor climbing and woodwork, both of which I've dabbled in before and I kinda like.  Both of them require me to Do Things, things that I'm not really in a state to do at the moment.

I am in a state.  I am mentally ill, and this past week I've also been physically quite ill on top of it.  I managed two days back at work last week before I succumbed to this evil throat / chest / cough thing that my son picked up at the start of half term.  Everyone in this house has had it.  Symptoms seem to be cough / cold, with depression and toothache.  Who knows how that last one managed to become contagious, but there you are.  I feel awful, and it's causing all sorts of problems for my mental health recovery.  I have felt, over the past couple of days, that I'm massively depressed and therefore on the wrong medication, that nothing I do is making any difference to my physical or mental health, and that I'll never have the chance to get well enough to go back to work.  Furiosa says she felt exactly the same way about 2 before I did.  She feels better about things now.

Miscellany:  My Dad's been in hospital again.  Fits, scans, discharges.  My mother, to her credit, has sodded off with the Church for a tour of the Holy Land.  I'm a little bit worried about that, actually.  Also, to her debit, my therapist has pointed out that my hero-worship of my mother is somewhat  clouding my judgement on the negative effects that she seems to have on me as a child.  This is really uncomfortable for me as an idea, but I think he's right.  I need a few more sessions with him to get to the bottom of that one, and I would have had one today, but I'm too ill, so I sat about on the sofa doing nothing.

So yes, I don't know what to do, and I'm in a state.  This looks like it could be my mid-life crisis.

Which is good, weirdly, according to Furiosa.  This is what we wanted to happen.

Bear with me.

About this time last year, Furiosa asked me to seek counselling about my father, as a sort of pre-emptive get-your-shit-together-before-he-dies kind of thing.  It came to little, because I only had a few sessions, which were really hard to organise around chlidcare and didn't seem to be going anywhere.  The lady was very nice, but when the sexual stuff came up, she didn't really know what to do with it, and batted me back in the direction of Relate, who did our sex therapy.  They suggested my current therapist, who appears to be very good.  Expensive, but good.

Anyway, back to the point: this could be my midlife crisis, and now would be an excellent time to have it, before my father dies.

I find this more uplifting than it's probably meant to be

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