Reader, the last few weeks have been hard. Every day has felt like a battle, and as I mentioned in my last incredibly mopey post, I’m sick of battling. This blog was originally intended as a comedy outlet – I was hoping that the reason I wasn’t making anyone laugh was because my audience was too narrow, not because my jokes are shit – but it has become a self-obsessed journalling process in which you, the reader, are well and truly dead and I, the author and subject matter, do absolutely anything I want with no oversight. I’m not bemoaning this: I find it cathartic.
It’s a shame that any readers clinging to life are forced to suffer through the thorny bits of my life experience, but that’s my brand these days. Long gone are the days when I’d genuinely try and think up posts that I thought would like people. These days I just wait until I feel my soul welling up with something and then tippity tap at my computer until I feel better. Strangely, I have many more readers now that I have decided to write about whatever I want than when I tried to make everything accessible or attractive. I think people like the honesty of how often I tell them that life is shit and I am shit and everything is shit.
There are a few people who reply with beautiful and supportive comments whenever my angst exceeds safe levels; and I love you all.
It’s not just my mind/soul that’s been fucking me over: my body seems to be in cahoots with that giant depression spider I mentioned. I’ve been going from frenetically energetic to beyond lethargic several times a day and my sleep schedule has been really fucked as a result. Imagine the malaise you get from oversleeping and missing your therapy session because you were up all night looking at the inside of your own eyelids.
This is not even close to the worst I’ve felt but I am trying to be more open and honest etc etc etc. Journalling my experience is also really helpful for my sense of perspective, since I write stuff down when I’m feeling great and when I’m feeling terrible. This blog must read as comfortably as whiplash as the posts fluctuate between Rosie Loving Life and Rosie Wishing Her Skin Would Fall Off.
I think that this is probably quite hard to read, especially if you’re someone who knows me personally and wants to help me (shout out my mum). It’s particularly frustrating because I feel like I am truly and genuinely doing the things I should be doing – therapy, medication, applying the stuff we talk about in therapy to real life, even fucking yoga – and yet this shit still keeps getting on top of me. I am too tired now and over the last couple of days I’ve just let the bleakness wash over me without much resistance.
It’s hard for the people who love me because all they can say is, “Keep on keeping on.” And that really is the only thing to do. But, oh my god, I’m so done. The pile of things that have upset me on a micro-level has combined with the bigger things and I feel like I’m being crushed into a Flat Stanley.
I know how self involved these blogs make me come off, but honestly, it’s a pretty accurate impression. At the moment I’m really struggling to engage with anyone else. This is definitely something I want to work on, because I love other people and I want to be there for them and to be able to be a Good Friend and a Nice Person. I wonder if I am using mental illness as an excuse for being selfish, but I don’t know if that’s a question I can think about right now or I might fall down a well and set on fire.
I need a little holiday from being me, from having to try to force a pleasant existence on an unwilling mind. I think if I take a little break I’ll be able to come back refreshed and with a new thirst for life and joy and all of that jazz. Unfortunately, it’s not as easy as you might think to temporarily stop Being. I have compiled this short list of ideas to try out.
I can’t remember the science behind this film since I watched it when I was so little, but as I recall two people use ??? witchcraft to switch bodies. I infer from the title that this happened on a Friday, which is nice because it means that the protagonists had an entire weekend to run havoc in each other’s skin. This option strikes me as ideal, because I would be fully immersed in another person’s being and therefore have plenty of time to gain some much-needed perspective.
turn into a pillar of salt
But, like, just for three or four days.
Other inanimate objects would probably also work e.g. crumpled laundry, bathroom curtains etc.
live in the woods
Sure, this isn’t as good as the first two options, since I’d still be Rosie in this scenario and therefore still inclined to experience whatever is going through me right now, but I think that this jaunt would be so divorced from my regular day-to-day life that it would be as if I had disappeared. What I’m saying is that Ro having to forage for beans in the woods may as well be a stranger to Ro who grinds the beans and serves them in the form of a delicious coffee.
Haveabreakhaveakitkat love you bye xox
Just writing this has made me feel more human. I’m going to go for a little walk and throw some stones at pigeons. All the very best. Thanks for reading through this mind dump. It might seem like it’s not helping, but it is