Yesterday was a day of two halves. 

As so often happens. 

While the daytime was clouded by the fall out from insomnia, and related anxious misery, the early evening was taken up with seeing my old friend, "Miss Prosecco" [not her real name, but I nickname her that, for reasons that I will not divulge, but they may include Prosecco]. 

Sadly Miss Prosecco lives some way away now, in a whole different county, so we only see one another on select occasions, often around the time of school holidays [she is, unlike myself, a mother]. Such sparse meetings are certainly better than nothing -- and always worth looking forward to. 

Anyway, last night we had an excellent early supper at a local golf club... and as we then felt that we were having a little too much of a "classy" time, we mixed it up by going elsewhere for a quick session on the slotties. 

[Of course, my gambling addiction kicked in, and I ended up losing a whole British pound on the 2p Falls... such is my weakness in the face of demanding mistresses...] 

The journey between these places and Chez Buffy was lightened throughout by sing-a-longs to the car radio, which is not really my natural oeuvre, but I was inspired [not least by the wine; I was the evening's Designated Drinker] and it was to Miss P.'s credit that she feigned icy indifference when I tried to serenade her [briefly] by singing along to "Tonight I Celebrate My Love For You"... she only broke out into a smile by the very end. 
All in all, a most intoxicating evening... even though I was led astray. Once again.

There was, however, one failure... which was my own.

In the wake of trying to live a more upfront version of my life in 2O17 -- a more fearless facing of the dark storms of anxiety and depression that sometimes encircle me -- I told myself that I would tell Miss Prosecco all about my struggles; the length and breadth and the depth of them. Thus far she only knows that I've had "low moods".

But I didn't: I chickened out. Again.

Last night the chickening out wasn't a big deal [adrenaline, wine, etc] and it's not as if we didn't have lots to talk about [like me, she can talk for Britain about just about anything... though she's more interesting than I] but the more I reflect on it, the more it bothers me. 

But it shouldn't bother me that much. 
Should it? 

I've known Miss P. for over 12 years; she's my good friend and as such I love her very much. She is warm-hearted and very accepting. But I'm terrified of admitting my darkness. 


Maybe it's because I don't want her to worry, or maybe it's because she has a young(ish) child with demands on her time -- and I don't want her to feel that she's obliged to talk to me if I'm a bad way and want to be in touch. 

It's a tough one.

I'm reminded of a song from a musical that my late aunt used to love: "Tell Me On A Sunday" [written about the end of a relationship, but that's not important right now; the sentiment endures] -- ultimately when we have to talk to someone about something important, a Sunday walk in a park is a lot better conditions than a slightly boozy night of adventure! 

Perhaps I'm making too much of this... but some years ago when I told my lovely friend, the Angel, about the extent of my depression, she took it very badly and cried a lot. In the end, we were closer because of it... but it took time.

I suppose I don't want my 'stuff' to weight anyone else down. 

It's my responsibility, my concern -- no one else's. 

[Hmm, that makes me feel a little selfish, even...!] 

Also, I suppose that just because something happens to be true, and important to us, it doesn't mean that we have to tell it to everyone we care about, does it? 

So that little "confession" is indeed back on the back burner.
For the time being.

But do I feel a certain gap between me and Miss P... plus I wish I didn't feel like a bit of a fake, right now.




  1. I know this feeling well, I’ve wanted to tell people in the past but decided against it at the last moment for similar reasons. It shows a lot about the man who holds back out of not wanting to burden the other person. Its very noble and understanding, but I suspect it is maybe underestimating the lovely Miss P. I think she would understand. However, as you said. There is no rush as you guys get along just fine. Next time.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you muchly, Mindfump… that’s both fair and reassuring. I suppose so long as we’re not (de-)motivated by fear alone, then it’s a matter of balance.
      You’re absolutely right… there’s a season for everything, I think.

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  2. 1. Didn’t get, why your friend, so called Angel, cried? It’s not like u r going to die tomorrow or having cancer. I mean u r not the only one in this world who is depressed. It’s kinda starting to be a norm for our generation.. 2. I like “Prosecco” …as a drink 🍹. You could tell her. But def can wait until next time. Just don’t describe it like THE END of THE WORLD. 3. U can sing. Wow 4. Probably was not enough wine lol 😂

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    1. 1. Angel had a depressed friend who died, so it was a touchy subject at the time. And yes, now, several years later, it’s so much more publicised. 2. Yes: “keep it as light as possible”. 🙂 3. I can’t sing… though it didn’t stop me last night. 😉 4. Haha, there’s never enough wine(!) 😀 😀

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  3. Buffy,
    Let yourself step back and just reflect. There are no rules, so you didn’t do anything wrong.
    Sounds like she had a lot to tell you. If you decide to share your struggles with her, maybe you could arrange a special, purposeful outing?


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  4. I think there’s a great sense of nobility and strength in people who suffer with depression. We regularly choose to suffer in silence for fear of hurting those around us. Miss P is a mum so I’m sure she’ll be understanding and caring, you’ll tell her when you’re ready. Until then keep telling us about it so you don’t have to suffer in complete silence, there’ll still be the tapping of keys.

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    1. I think the first line of your comment should be repeated across the internet… a lot! 🙂
      Most kind: yes I’ve only been doing this blogging for 3 and a bit weeks and it’s been a lot more therapeutic than most things I’ve done! Thank you for the reassuring words. 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Maybe I should get into writing greetings cards for depressed people lol
        I started my blog back in October but only really started talking about my depression in January. It’s so much more therapeutic than I would have imagined. Plus I’m gaining a group of friends I can talk to about it, safe in the knowledge they understand what I mean and will share likewise.

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      2. Haha, there’d be a market for it! 😉

        I’m glad you’ve had such a good experience in such a short time. Yes, that’s the great part isn’t it? The solidarity… from my own experience, WordPress is a good place for like-minded people to find one another: the feeling of depression being ‘normalised’ is immensely reassuring, even if no two people’s stories are the same. 🙂

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      3. Thankyou. 🙂 Regarding anonymity, another aspect of being anxious/depressed is being scared of social exposure… so having good control over how much of ourselves we show to the world is excellent.

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  5. First of all — PROSECCO: YUM. Secondly, you are not a flake. The moment didn’t strike you to talk about your mental health with someone. That’s ok. It isn’t easy getting to a point where you can talk about it with friends. Typically, I do most of my talking after a bottle of wine, but I’m a chick; we talk a lot. To share with you one thing: People usually feel pretty honoured and special when their friends feel safe enough to share themselves with them. That’s been my experience. NOT always, but with the good “Worth Keeping” one.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thankyou — the reassurance is welcome, as I think I beat myself up a bit last night, so to speak. Not unusually I’m sure, I’m harder on myself than I’d ever be on other people!
      And thank you for the insight… it IS a sign of trust to share such things, even with an old friend. Something to bear in mind for when I see her again at Easter (hopefully!)

      Haha, Prosecco all round(!) I really need to buy some. 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Ah yes; it’s why ‘Dry January’ (I don’t know if such things happen beyond the UK?) sounds like a form of madness to me… that would be one LONG month(!)

        Well, like my own aim, I think your attempt is very admirable… even allowing for the occasional ‘wobble’ (not that I’d advocate wobbles, y’understand… but they are sometimes just Forces of Nature…)


  6. Hey darlin. Maybe your gut told you it wasn’t the right time…I do think a non alcoholic conversation without singing would be sure to be helpful. You are changing with the blogging…and even during the time I’ve known you, you are opening up and becoming more authentic, but anything out of your comfort zone is scary…do it next time huni…I’m sure because of your bad experience with your other friends that you are ultra cautious but I think the chances of getting a reaction like that again are slim to none 😘💜💜

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    1. Hey Professor… yes, I think you are right, and thankyou for saying that about changing (it’s nice to evolve).
      Thankyou for the reassurance — this all started back in the 1st week of January (your persuading me to take some big chances, no matter the outcome) and I can’t tell you how I appreciate your support hun. x 🙂 💜

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  7. Hmm, I know this feeling too. It’s such an enormous thing to drop into a conversation isn’t it. Perhaps you will find it surfaces at the perfect time… don’t make yourself feel bad about it xx 💛

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  8. I’ve had to open up to old friends a lot since I moved back to my home town five years ago. It was always scary and yes, sometimes the time just isn’t right. I am sure if the right time presents itself you will be free to open up. Until then its all good. I think there is a part of depression which involves opening to our soul and deepening intimacy. At least in my experience.

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    1. Thank you. I do agree: I think we can definitely say the right thing at the wrong time, sort of — and I think that openness (at least, with the right people) is important for the healing process.

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