Dear Diary,
Today is shit!!!
I mean, the weather is okay and all. So maybe because the sun is shining, the day might miraculously turn out okay.
The thing is, I feel like shit, messed up, depleted, tired, numb, uncomfortable.
It is hard to even think properly.
I swear my body is trying to shut down on me. Everything I think about is a struggle.
Then I just feel so tired, like I could sleep a week.
I think my emotions have flat-lined. I can’t cry and I can’t smile.
My happy place doesn’t feel happy today. Not an ounce of joy to be squeezed out of there.
This sucks! What stole my joy?
Why can’t I be like those people I see walking along the sidewalk?
You know the ones. They are bouncing along like they have a never-ending supply of energy and not a problem in the world. There isn’t a crease in their clothes, a hair out of place or a wrinkle to be seen.
And here I am, hiding away from the world, spilling my secrets to you and only you. I don’t think anyone else could understand. Who could I tell anyway?
Billy isn’t talking to me. I don’t know what is going on there. He won’t tell me anything and just won’t talk to me. I try to get him to talk but what is the point when he won’t talk back?
Joe-Paul has some big family crisis happening and is caught up in that. Some in-fighting shit. I held back from telling him to stick them all in a boxing ring to punch it out. I wanted to but I clenched my lips tight.
Abbey and Cybil are flitting around being all gossipy and in each other’s hip pocket. It is sickening to watch sometimes.
The one possible person I might be able to talk to, Rose-Marie, is off on some fantastic tropical paradise holiday with her new ‘perfect’ boyfriend.
This is exhausting. I just want to curl up on the couch with a bucket of ice-cream, soda, potato crisps, an endless supply of chocolate and the soppiest tear-jerking movie ever made.
Maybe then I could cry. Get this shit out of my system.
That’s got to make it better. Won’t it?
Sometimes I really wish you could answer me back. How freaky would that be though? I open you up and there are words written back to me that I didn’t write. I would freak the hell right out!
Then I would really know I have a great big messed up brain that is freaking scary as all get out.
Shit, that would be all I need. This crap is hard enough to deal with.
You remember what happened to Barry? When he went all spaced out and blank looking? They shoved some pills down his throat and stuck him in that place a million miles from anywhere. Now he can’t get out unless the doc signs some special papers.
I am glad I only have this messed up mind, the way it is, and not freaking worse like Barry or those poor sods that I see on those late-night television shows.
That doesn’t make me feel so bad now – I am not unlucky like those blokes.
Although things could be a tonne better for me, things could be way out of here worse.
Geez, I am a freaking lucky duck, aren’t I?
I will be damned!
Did you notice what just happened?
You always help and I bet you don’t even know it.
Talking about those in a way worse state than me, well hey, how lucky I am to not be like that?
I found a fine thread of gratitude to loop through that button of joy. I will sew that sucker onto my jacket so tight, that it cannot come loose again, you wait and see.
It will be the smartest looking jacket around, and I will wear it with pride and prance around like those folks on the sidewalk I was telling you about.
My trusty old safe place to come. What would I do without you to tell all my woes and secrets to?
Well, until next time, I am off to get some shit done.
Maybe I will go for a walk and then clean that bloody bathroom that I have been putting off doing. I could even soak in a nice warm deep bath afterwards with some music playing.
Yep, that sounds like a plan.
Catch you on the flipside!
Further reading:
- A poem I wrote – Grey Days; messed up
- An article written by Jayne Leonard on How to recognise and cope with emotional exhaustion
Image: Sue Nolan