Tuesday

| 2018 | 11 | 06 | ice cream sundaes and a whole loada trifle |

okay. it's been a while.

hi.

hi there.


please just picture me carefully waving from whichever writing location you'd actually imagine someone would chose.

i've gone for the pile of bedding I can't bring myself to finish actually putting on my bed.

and my mum wonders why I sleep on the sofa.

---

yesterday. step count : over 10,000. word count: borderline 34875320394875. approx.

I think I might be out of practice so bear with me here.


there is legitimately more than I can coherently write down to write down.

within the ten minutes I've given myself the best I will be achieving is some kind of babble interjected with other obscurities.

wild isn't it?

point 1. I'm basically bed bound, allowed out as and when my guilt will allow.

It's hard being ill. I'm struggling with the lack of understanding from people. 'well you look fine' seems to be the most uttered phrase, along with, 'so when are you back to work'. haste is not going to be my friend here. it's hard enough battling my internal disbelief, let alone the raised eyebrows of the hardworking elite who have yet to take a sick day. do one tumbleweed.



next point. I have a house. and a housemate. yet to meet the third but we already have his cactus ready.


next?

there's now a mug of coffee where it shouldn't be. out of it's mug. I wonder if this is how my parents felt when i was younger and let loose.

frack,


Thursday

| 2018 | 11 | 01 | how to be okay |

sometimes i write posts today, to publish in the future. This is one of those.

The mind is a funny thing. The internal monologue that drives you forward can be both your  best friend and your utmost enemy. And you are stuck with them. You. You are stuck with you.

You can't switch you off.

You can only alter the course of the conversation inside and learn to accept it for what it is.

I used to be unable to let the little things go. They would run circles round my mind, a constant reminder of the failure I felt I had become. Repeating the same phrases, moments and thoughts, becoming a constant distraction from the present moment.

I remember, one evening I was so fed up with it I turned to the mirror and I yelled.

Just picture that scene, a teary eyed emotional human with bedraggled hair and penguin pyjamas - yelling at her own reflection.

'shut up! shut up! shut. up.'


But. The next day. I woke up to a sort of quiet. Not quite a silence but the voice in my head was taking a back seat to the part of me that wanted to wear my dungarees.

And I liked it.

No more would it be a one way dialogue. I've learnt to become my own best friend and whilst I'm not always sure I agree with the decisions I end up making, I stick with them to the end.

I'm driven by the understanding that somehow, 26 years of life have passed and I am still here. I am still functioning. I have everything I need and from the outside I might even look like a fully functioning adult.