Dear Diary….

Well, it’s been… 18 months since my last… yeah. that’s not true. I have been posting, but WordPress, I’ve been cheating on you, as I’ve been posting elsewhere. It wasn’t you. It was me. I needed a break.

I came back because someone told me there were words written about me. Silly of me really, but I did it anyway.

Same could be said about a lot of things though!

I see no point in anything other than acknowledging an entitlement to an opinion. There’s a difference between being heard and being listened to, and when perspective is ruled by feelings that’s when things go wrong. I wish everyone well. It’s as simple as that. I bear (and never did) no ill-will or malice towards anyone.

This is now the past however. I don’t expect it to never come up – that’s unrealistic. But I don’t intend to dwell. Lines of communication are still open should they ever be sought.

‘But it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live…’

It may not be much of a life, but I’ve worked on that. And at least I’ll be able to say I died trying.

4am thoughts

So I’m going the another low patch at the moment, and it’s messing with my sleep pattern. Since midwinter my body has been trying to split my sleep into two with a gap between, which would actually be OK if I didn’t have a 9-5 job… as waking up at 2am for three to four hours doesn’t leave much room for a second bout!

This week and a half has been hard though. I have had to be the port in a storm for a friend on rough seas when I’ve been fighting the urge to just let myself drift away… as a result I’ve struggled a lot and this week have become progressively more sad, culminating in Friday where I just wanted to run, and cry, all through the day. I made it through work, got home, had something to eat and went to bed. At 7pm. I slept, albeit broken ly, for fourteen hours. Not for being tired, but in an effort to escape.

Today I took it easy, and practiced some self care, with a view to being up to some more decluttering tomorrow. I’m CHOOSING to not berate myself for wasting a day, or feeling crappy, instead, I’ll take tomorrow in my stride.

I’ve also been feeling isolated, which doesn’t help… I miss Jo, I’m not gonna lie. I miss nattering and drinking tea…the times it was ‘just us’…

My closest friends are, somewhat  ironically, geographically furthest away, which has been hard this week. I could have really used a hug at several points, but, I’ve been able to at least spend some time talking online, which has helped some.

It’s starting to get lighter now, at least, so hopefully the sadness will begin to lift with the days lengthening. Until then, it’s just a case of keeping going…

perspective

This year has been a doozy and a half.

I haven’t written so much as I’ve been at a loss as to what to say.

I could talk about the friendship I lost. Someone I considered as my closest friend, even though I struggled immensely (and continue to) with issues related to my self worth which mean I hand on heart cannot say of anyone that their feelings (of any sort) towards me are unconditional. The irony here being that that meant the friendship I had was conditional on my acceptance of that. I’m the first to admit I screwed up with things, but an explanation to someone who has no interest in listening is wasted breath. Nevertheless, whilst I may never be forgiven for my transgressions I want nothing but good for them.

I could talk about the fact that the consequence of this was my walking away from a lot of mutual friends as well. It may mean that I’ve given the impression of being guilty of something, but the truth is I simply dont have the fight left. Instead I chose to not drive myself crazy with m head over analysing and over thinking every little thing.

I could also talk about the breakdown I had in July, which led to a month off work because I couldn’t function coherently.

I could also talk about the fact I’ve had two near misses of suicide attempts the latest one being november. But at this point I’ll just acknowledge my mental health has been absolutely shit this year.

I could instead then talk about my leg, and how my recovery has progressed to a point at which point it’s unlikely to improve much more.

Or I could focus on my trip to Denmark, the things I saw, and experienced and enjoyed.

I Could talk about th fact that work has gone pretty well this year, and I have a few friendships forming over mutual geekiness.

I could talk about lots of things… but instead, I’m choosing to talk about the words I’m adopting for myself for the coming year.

“Be kind to yourself in the year ahead.

Remember to forgive yourself, and to forgive others. It’s too easy to be outraged these days, so much harder to change things, to reach out, to understand.

Try to make your time matter: minutes and hours and days and weeks can blow away like dead leaves, with nothing to show but time you spent not quite ever doing things, or time you spent waiting to begin.

Meet new people and talk to them. Make new things and show them to people who might enjoy them.

Hug too much. Smile too much. And, when you can, love.”
– Neil Gaiman

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…

the dangers of extroverted processing.

I am an introvert by nature. (INFJ if you want to know my Myers Briggs type) However, what’s even rare than that is the fact that I’m an introvert with an extroverted processing mechanism – that is to say, that I work through things externally – whether it’s coming to a conclusion about one of the Big Things, or just something as simple as what to have for tea, sometimes. Whether or not it’s a learned coping strategy (because I tend to not be great at self talk) or it’s just my nature to be that is actually irrelevant. It’s a hard thing, because I don’t like talking to people. I don’t like feeling like I’m disturbing people or being a burden in anyway (which IS relevant because my thoughts and feelings are no more (and no less) important than anyone else’s.) so to get around that, quite often I’ll write things down. That way I can give it the consideration it needs, in the way I need to give it without having to worry.

Of course the thing that’s really under scrutiny here is the fact that a lot of the time, I’ll write on here. The reason I do is that if anyone else has an opinion, they are welcome to chip in, but I don’t expect it. But that in itself is fraught with danger. People tend to assume I’m writing about them, or that it’s a situation somehow involving them, or that I should talk to them about things. 99% of the time it’s none of those. A situation involving a single person or set of people I WILL GO AND TALK TO ABOUT IT, I don’t know how many times I have to keep saying and doing that.

I’m aware that this is sounding suspiciously like an angry rant, and it is, in a way. I slept really badly, due to my last post being brought up in a conversation while I was getting off to sleep. Consequently I didn’t sleep well, and every time I woke up I had the last comment made running round my head, which doesn’t help anything. I’m not in a good mood today because I need to have a pointless conversation now which will only piss me off more and because I slept badly I got up late and now can’t do half the stuff I wanted to today…

So I guess what I’m trying to say in sum is that I won’t be writing on here any more. Not as a sounding board to my own head anyway. I’ll find somewhere else (I’ve got other places I used to write) or just go back to pen and paper. It’s getting to the point where it’s more trouble than it’s worth- whether it’s doing ME any good be damned.

mixed signals

I think it’s time to accept that this isn’t working. Not any more.

Too many assumptions getting in the way of everything. Of which the consequence is mixed signals being given.  And then of course it becomes a point of contention when it’s mentioned. I’m not saying that I’m any better-  as much as I try not to assume, I end up doing my fair share. Mine tend to be predictable though – I’ll always assume the worst.

There is one assumption I know I’m falling back into; which is the assumption that I’m just a third wheel; a spare part; the one who’s tolerated because you don’t want to hurt her feelings, but you don’t really want around. But you know what? I’m actually OK with that. I’d rather be told though than to try and fight to believe that isn’t true (thanks to people telling me that repeatedly) but when the chance comes to be social or whatever, I’m mysteriously forgotten about…. nothing new really. Just… same old..

So with that in mind, maybe it’s time that I stepped back a bit and see what’s what – for myself. If I step back would anyone notice? Or even try and intervene? It’d be nice to believe that, but the reality is what it is.

I’m not bitter, or angry… just a bit foolish really.