I realise I have been avoiding writing about what's going on with me at the moment.

Since I had my offered accepted for the flat in Brighton (I move 6 weeks today, god willing) I thought I would feel all hunkadooree (spelling?) and creative, but it hasn't happened that way.

Inside I feel in turmoil - confused, defused - as if I'm split into pieces, with a gapin hole in the middle.  It's probably been so for ages, but now I've become aware of it, it's scary.  I'll talk about this wierd, uncomfortable feeling (which comes and goes) with my therapist on Monday, probably. But meanwhile there is at least one day with my mother to contend with.

Each time I speak to her, she makes me feel in the wrong for feeling a little bit happy.

(and this is shrink stuff, maybe best not to say it, but...)
(no, I won't say it , anyway not now)