I thought I was doing okay

I can relate to most of that, in one way or another. The bit that really frustrates me is that feeling there is no point doing things that are pleasurable, that everything will stuff up, that I won't cope in some way....phhfft. It's bloody exhausting.

I bought a camper trailer, on impulse, just after new year. The idea was that I could take my long suffering partner and the useless hound away for minibreaks in relative comfort compared to my previous holiday provisions of a swag, a blue tarp and a length of rope. It's happened three times. It's too hot or too cold or likely to be too crowded. I'm tired, I have sore legs...On and on it goes. The truth? I simply can't get myself organized and the thought that anything might go wrong is overwhelming. So I don't go. How sad is that? On the occasions I have made the effort, I've had a lovely time, but only after I've literally dragged myself out of bed mumbling, 'If I'm going to die, it might as well be of snakebite or by being exsanguinated by mosquitoes.'

Try and put your brain on hold until your holiday--lie in bed if you have to--then go. Don't let this shit disease rob you of everything--we all know how easily that can happen. Mxx