Affidavits in reply to mine are arriving. One in particular is sheer nastiness. Guess whose? No surprises there, of course, nor about the other nastinesses, which are less extreme, though. Fortunately, there is a lot of stuff I can document, but, possibly unrealistically, I hoped this process could be done without sneers, nastiness, falsity and exaggeration. But it seems not so. To me there seems to be the whiff of collusion.
I am writing rejoinders, so as to rebut things, but I hope it won't come to the stage of litanies of woe, outrage and relative nastiness, such as she said, she did, he said, he did, they said, they did, etcetera, because this is not what my legal contest is about - rather about the law, and the justice of my claim. The context and the nuances need to be set out. They are not the issue, though. But I must keep my language temperate, measured and rational, and not descend or resort to abuse, or snide comments. Just the facts, ma'am.
At present, I feel I need intravenous tranquillisers, good stiff drinks (I don't drink that sort of alcohol) a warm bath, to be held, cuddled and soothed, about fifty hours sleep, and the ability to switch moods at will. Lacking most of these, I must persevere, stay on course, and hope I live long enough to get through this process, and to heal and become whole. And if I could then press Delete on many of these experiences, I probably would. Right now I just want to bawl my head off.
In the scheme of things my lot is really not all that bad, and many of my reactions are conditioned, and thus difficult to prevent or halt.
Yesterday I went to the crochet clinic. It was very soothing and productive. I also lashed out, and bought an ice cream.
Perhaps later I will sort through my increasing pile of documents and ensure they are in order.
In the meantime, I will drink my coffee, have some sour dough with cumquat marmalade, and put on some harrowingly emotional opera, or some uplifting Bach or Handel. I am not sure I can cope with an opera with a heroine (foolishly) sacrificing all for the man she loves, though.
Showing posts with label Things are worse at sea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things are worse at sea. Show all posts
Monday, 31 October 2011
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