(Or: At Home – Day Fifty-Five)
Slammed a heel today during a very inelegant fall in aerial and I’m reasonably sure I’ve bone bruised it, as it hurts like a son of a bitch, so that’s fun. I am having a lot of fun with aerial, but I’m bruised to hell and back.
Managed to meet up with a good friend of mine and had a good chat.
Otherwise not much by way of developments. My mood is pretty low. Overall, I definitely feel like I’m plummeting. The sensation of hopelessness that’s been spreading since the discovery that I really can’t fucking trust anybody in the NHS has now sunk marrow-deep and will not leave. I just can’t be fucked any more. I don’t care. I am so tired and I am so, so done with all of this – and I don’t have that option, I have to be doing everything myself.
People don’t seem to get just how fucking tiring it is, to be mentally ill. I can hold conversations, socialise, go out. I can. It’s physically possible. I have just got so used to being so tired that I don’t even notice it any more.
(Or: At Home – Day Twenty-Four)
I am exhausted. I have no right to be – slept for a solid eleven hours last night – but the emotional exhaustion of so much social interaction has rendered me basically capable of yawning and video games with a manic buzzing at the back of my skull. I have social engagements (as it were, me not being from the eighteenth century) for the next three days too, one of which is accompanying my partner to an audition. Which, of course, I’m dreading, for reasons pertaining to my massive inferiority complex and depression at not being able to do my job and live a normal life.
You don’t expect the emotional exhaustion, not gonna lie. It’s remarkably exhausting to just be human, when your brain basically has a vendetta against you. Which is mean. I’m even trying to be nice to it at the moment, and it repays me with exhaustion and cripplingly low self-esteem. Bitch.
So on that happy note, I’m going to bed. You never know. Maybe I’ll finally hear from the treatment programme that I was assessed for nearly three weeks ago now, or perhaps pigs will fly…