When I was a young girl, there was a Crosby Stills Nash song which used to upset me. Not being particularly of the hippy persuasion, I took as an affront the lyrics which basically advised that if you are away from your Baby and feeling a bit cross about it, you should shag the person next to you. Sorry, 'love the one you're with', doo doo doo doo doo doo doo-doo. It still has the power to make me feel quite unaccountably wronged, although I admit it's a great tune.
What I'm wondering is why this love the one you're with keeps riffing in my medicated, patched head. Along with one of those Facebook homilies about not chasing after love that isn't freely given. I've done a lot of that. Olympic gold.
Perhaps it's this: in the absence of a person to love, who loves you back, the only logical alternative is to love the one you're with. Yourself. I'm Olympic standard at not doing that.
In practical terms I think this means caring for yourself in the way you would a much-loved child. Which does not mean you have to sit through several showings of Madagascar, unless you really want to.
I'll let you know how this goes. Don't hold your breath though - blue is not your best colour.