Boxes. Literal and Figurative.

We spend a lot of time trying to put things into boxes.

Whether it’s the literal lets keep things tidy or put them away out of sight, or the figurative filing as to where pieces of information and all other intangible things fit it’s built in to us nowadays. I’m fairly sure that it wasn’t always like that though. There was a simpler time when things just were what they were, and they were accepted for that. trying to reclaim any semblance of that is difficult, even for someone who sees thing as they truly are and does not judge.

At the moment I have a lot of things in boxes – from things that were in the hospital with me, to some of the things that I accumulated during my 6 months convalescence away from home, to things that aren’t even mine, but I am storing. It’s probably about the same ratio in my head to be honest, but some of the content is different. From random information, through to paranoia and negativity – not all of which is mine…

I closed this blog down shortly before Christmas, because other people were chastising me for getting some of this stuff out of my head and onto paper, or page. In hindsight, it may not have been the best plan. Because all it did was cause me to put more things into boxes and shut the lids. Not always helpful when you’re already in a spiral downwards that you know about, and others know about.

I don’t know whether it’s time to dust it down and start using it again, as to be honest, every time I think about writing a blog post, whether it’s on here or my lifestyle blog I am left wondering how long it will be until I’m forced to stop expressing myself in any way. Its been a hellish few months, as things in my head haven’t gotten better. they got worse, and compounded by real life events that would take a good toll on anyone at all have also taken their toll on me.

I moved back to my own flat. A scary premise in itself, as my entire support structure was taken out from under my feet, and suddenly, aside from the obvious things like stairs I needed to deal with, I didn’t have anyone to help if I slipped or got stuck or any of the things that were a worry. I also became truly single again, which… still hurts. I’m pretty sure that there won’t be another relationship now. That’s not me being defeatist or negative either, that’s just gut feeling. If I’m proven wrong, then so be it, but I think its probably best that I remain as per the internet memes of notoriety, Forever Alone.  I also went back to work. Another scary thing.

It’s no real surprise then, that I’ve hidden. I’m afraid to go out now, whether it’s on my own or with people. Partly rational, but partly not. I’m afraid that friends are taking pity on me, that others are tolerating my being around. That others will look and not see the injury that I’m hiding because now, with the crutches, I walk relatively normally. Its only when you take them away that they aren’t there. And that’s when it comes to people I know. I’m scared to go anywhere I haven’t been before and seen the route that I can go and made sure I’m not going to come a cropper.

For me, in all honesty, that is the point where I am losing my raison d’etre. Fiercely independant and unable to go out and explore and do anything the way I used to…

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