Not going out

For the last couple of months, I've been having real problems in getting out. Not because of agoraphobia: I'd love to get out. Because of physical difficulties, and complete and utter lack of spoons. I just haven't had the energy to go out.

I used to be - well, not exactly a party animal (though I've had my moments!), but I went out a fair bit. Part of it was day-to-day getting out, of the going-to-the-shops, paying-the-bills type. And of course work, back when I was still able. In these teched-up days, the internet offers alternatives to much of that kind of going out, for those who want them.

But part of it was the joyous, wonderful kind of going out: meeting your mates, going to the pub, going to gigs. Falling in love with the band who were supporting the one you'd actually gone to see. Your table in the pub laughing so loudly that the landlord has to ask you to quieten down. An evening at the fair, throwing balls at coconuts to win teddy bears.

It's that kind of going out I miss so much. I have wonderful friends I'm in contact with online, by text or by phone: but it's just not the same as when I meet up with them in real life.

And even the boring, everyday kind of going out means you're still part of the community at large. You're still "normal" (whatever the hell that means!) rather than stuck permanently indoors.

So I'm still hoping I'll beat these damn recurrent infections, and get enough energy back to do some going out again. Because this not going out is really getting me down.