Here there be Dragons ...
... in the post today, communications from my Accountant, the Police, the borough council parking department and my Member of Parliament. All of them seeming to be a need to get their desks cleared before the holiday weekend, without a thought that they will all arrive on my doormat on a Saturday. All of them feel like Dragons, come to slay the 'Maiden' (my mirror laughs at that).
I visualise the painting where the young maiden is quite all right thank you, has a beautiful dragon on a silver chain, and is just waiting to see what George makes of it all. Saint George being my attempt to internalise more input to the Positive Animus, the Jungian term for that aspect in a female's unconscious psyche that enables her to deal effectively with the outside world. As an aside; the Positive Anima is that in a male's unconscious psyche that enables him to deal with the world of relating and being. The Negative Animus in the unconscious psyche plays havoc with a girl's ability to manage the practicalities of life, and a Negative Anima trips up a boy's relationships and creativity. Hugely over-simplified; Carl Gustav Jung is the master of all.
There is a poem somewhere (which I will look out and quote if I find it) which also bolsters my ability to deal with this in a positive frame of mind. I am just feeling a touch overwhelmed at present. I need to get the Dragons back into their proper cages, so that I don't succumb to negative anxieties when the weekly neuro-toxic drug affects my ability to be positive about anything for two or three days; yes, every week.
The Accountant is fairly simple; he got one of my employee's salary calculations wrong and it is just the neurotic aspect of my many faceted life, that is afraid of telling him he got it wrong, when I contracted him to help me get it right !
The Police sent me their standard form to fill in, requiring me to make a written statement about the incident with the white van man, and suddenly my optimism is slightly cracked when it occurs to me that my view of events is only my view of events. Whereas I knew what had happened, because I was there, the police don't know what happened, were not there, and only have my word for it. They, quite rightly, will take notice equally of my account of events, my passenger's account, and the white van man's account of events. I can only rely on one of those three 'realities', my own. My passenger's experience was not the same as mine, as she was not driving. What the white van man will say in his defence, who knows. So it feels a little wobbly, and I am trying to talk myself into a feeling of safety in this,
My appeals against the two Parking Charge Notices have failed, so I either pay up (busting the budget) or get involved in the stress of the next stage of appeal. I feel I was right in my defence, as there is no disabled parking provision for exiting a wheelchair adapted vehicle by reversing down a rear ramp in a wheelchair, into moving traffic. Extra wide disabled parking bays only consider transferring from a wheelchair into a side door. On street parking is always stressful, even with my blue badge and the wheelchair symbol and a polite request in the rear window asking others to leave 3 metres clear space. I never know until I return whether someone will have parked too close behind me, so I cannot let down the rear wheelchair access ramp. I have to avoid all sources of stress, to quote my doctor, so now I will consider which is more stressful, the busted budget or the appeal process.
The M.P.'s letter is the one source of stress that I cannot deal with until next week. His complaint on my behalf to Social Care & Health about the delay of three years for wheelchair access into and around my home, has resulted in a decision by SC&H in my favour (hurrah), allowing the extensions and adaptations agreed and recommended by my Occupational Therapist and Care Manager. However, the grant/loan conditions imposed by SC&H, I believe do not comply with Fair Access to Care criteria and Housing Adapations regulations. SC&H have quite expertly answered my M.P.'s complaint in such a way that I now neurotically feel as if I have been a naughty girl. Very neurotic.
So, blogged and discharged, I shall now spend the rest of this spring day outdoors. The Maiden has hushed the Dragon, who is now snoozing quietly, with just a gently drift of smoke from his aristocratic nostrils. St George is polishing up his armour. If I had typed 'amour' that would have been a Freudian slip !