The Black Beast

It does not happen very often, but when it happens I’m overwhelmed. Perhaps it seems to me more acute because I’m generally a positive person and I love life. But when it happens everything seems dark around me and inside me. My neighbours are horrible and spy on me (well, actually a couple of them really are!), my kids hate me and don’t appreciate what I do for them, we will all soon die of swine flu as the NHS is hopeless. I won’t have enough work next month and my house will be repossessed, they will close the Italian borders because of the pandemic and I will never see my parents again. And I cannot breath. I call it the “black beast” but my GP think it’s PMT. Fortunately it does not come back every month, though. But when it comes, like now, I’d like to dig a deep hole in the ground and hide. Forever. But that’s wrong. And that’s why I’m shutting down the computer now and I go out in the cool air (yes, summer is finished, by the way – another “positive” thought!) trying to shake this off. As my favourite literature hero said “I shall conquer this!”