Not broken, just bent.

I am little miss relapse. I am a flurry of bad decisions and strange dreams and unfriendly internal organs. I took a full time job, just for a month, and tomorrow I have to ask if I can leave early because it is making me ill to the extent that I am once more not allowed to operate machinery.

I feel naff. I feel sad. I feel heavy. When the courage arises I shall call my doctor and ask for more help, but that is for some reason proving a pretty difficult thing to do.

Any words/.gifs of encouragement would be greatly appreciated at the moment!


Right. Update time!

I am still alive – we’re off to a good start – and barely hallucinating, I have acquired a job that actually pays me (I have no idea what I’m doing¬†but it’s fiiiiiine…), I’ve gone out and done things and met people, and I have bought a pretty dress for no reason. I still have virtually no attention span but I’m coping with that well.

That’s life in a nutshell.

I’m doing well. I’ve been doing okay for a while, but I am finally doing well. I am good. I’m pretty great, actually! …says the person who is having to re-type most words due to shaking like a leaf on a windy day. But today’s shaky is caffeine related and not medication related OR brain related so it’s hardly even relevant!

So yeah.

I am doing really well, and it only took four months! ūüėÄ

Nothing quite like the countryside…

I live in the middle of nowhere. There is a lot of wildlife of various types, most of which are lovely and fluffy and keep themselves to themselves, but then there are the ones that brutally murder things in the middle of the night right outside the window and inflict sleep deprivation on people who can barely function on a good day.

I have an enormous dislike for foxes – more specifically¬†the noise they make – so when they decide to teach their young how to scream and torture things in close proximity to my bed, I don’t tend to¬†get much sleep. It has been a few days screeching lessons now and my brain is exhausted. Night time is supposed to be my recovery time when I am not busy being a bundle of adrenaline,¬†but the foxes have taken away my place of refuge and as a result I have spent a significant amount of the past few days shaking, crying and asking people to repeat what they just said several times with a glazed look in my eye.

I need some sleep now, please. I was in a dangerous mood riding home from work today and I do not wish to make a habit of that. I quite fancy surviving the week.

Upbeat titles are difficult.

The real world is treating me surprisingly well, I am pleased to say! I’m now working in a small office – there’s only four of us – on six hour days, correcting every spreadsheet they’ve ever made. Little steps. They’re lovely people and they like me lots!

I have told them that I have a history of silly-brain-itis (not actual inflammation of the silly brain, just a nice sounding phrase) but I have told them nothing more. I haven’t told them that I cannot ‘phones’, I have not asked them not to discuss illness, I have not told them I don’t like people. So for a little while I am actually playing the part of ‘well-adjusted, functional human’ quite well, even though I am a walking purple.

I am really, really enjoying dressing office-y. And startling people with the transition from mass of Kevlar and boots to dainty thing in a skirt and heels every morning. I did try taking the bus, but that turned out to be the most traumatic part of the day, so motorbike it is…while the weather stays co-operative anyway.

So yeah.
The real world is being nice.
Apart from last night’s spontaneous panic attack at three in the morning. Very odd sensation to wake up to, and not one I hope to repeat any time soon.

The room of requirement

As soon as I mentioned Trevor the Life Coach, he was hastily released from my service, never to be seen again.

Life’s weird like that; it throws you just exactly what you need at that precise moment in time, and then it’s served its purpose and you’re on your own again. But it’s okay. He helped a lot. He gave me a bit of confidence and that is precisely what I needed.

The next proverbial bone that the universe has thrown for/at me is a work experience placement. I start tomorrow, I get to dress all posh and office-y, and hopefully it will send me on the right path to find the next surprise in this ever-expanding treasure hunt that is life.

Crap superpowers.

The things that go on in my brain somehow still don’t seem tangible enough to be called illnesses. I prefer to call them my crap superpowers. Like superhuman hearing. My ears can pick up on the words “sick” or “ill” from the other side of a room full chattering, but then I don’t catch a word of the rest of the sentence, so I have no idea what the context was and can only conclude that someone is unwell at that moment.

I can also read minds. If you are unwell to any magnitude, I WILL find out. I will pick up on it immediately and there is no way you can convince me it is not true. I can see headaches. I can see the bit before a cold develops when you have a bit of a sore throat. I can see everything, no matter how small.

On the up-side of these ‘superpowers’, I will never contract food poisoning from my own cooking. But unfortunately that is the only perceivable up-side in a mine field of negatives that infiltrate every waking moment.

We are now entering the time of year where my superpowers peak, and it scares me. For the past few weeks I’ve been having a lot of difficulty waking up, sleeping,¬†and pretty much everything in between. When you’re afraid of the whole world things get a bit tricky. I’ve been trying to be a productive member of society and even got a job a few weeks back, but my brain has made that far more complicated than it ever should have been and so this Saturday will be my last day there, and then I’m hopefully going back to a more tolerable level of anxiety. With a bit of luck retreating back into my comfort zone will be able to shake a bit of the depression, too – I feel unbelievably tired for someone who sleeps 10 hours a day. I feel like gravity got stronger.

I like to try and make these posts a bit amusing or end them on a positive note, but I don’t really have a great deal of positivity in me at the moment… I’ve tried to go back to work after a year and a half off, and I’ve realised I’m not ready. I am having trouble dealing with the true extent of my mental health complications and independence not being a possibility for the foreseeable future. I miss my life so terribly.

Starting therapy again soon. Fingers crossed for better progress this time.

Why I hate smalltalk.

“What do you do?” is a question I dread.

I do nothing. There you go, you can judge me now. I do nothing. And I am in no particular hurry to change that.

When I get asked what I do or what my plans for the future are, I can decide how I am judged out of two options; lazy or crazy. I can tell people I do nothing and leave it at that (lazy) or I can explain why I do nothing (crazy). I despise the thought of people considering me to be lazy, but I do not go around flaunting the strange ways in which my brain interprets the world. Even some people who know my circumstances think I am just being lazy.

Mental health conditions are trivialised to the extent that the advice I often receive is essentially to shut up with my excuses and do something. They speak as if getting a job would magically make everything better. It will give my life meaning and the depression will go away. It will give me something else to think about so the anxiety will go away. I am completely, totally unconvinced. I am looking for work, yes. But I do not at all feel it will be a magical cure to every problem I have ever had and, contrary to making my imagination calm down, I am rather worried that working might add more things to worry about to my ever-increasing collection.

Whilst writing this I opened a cupboard to get something out, a lipstick tube fell out on me, and now the world is spinning faster, my breathing is irregular and shallow, and I am starting to shiver.

I wish I could make people feel what I feel, think what I think, for even a minute before they ask those questions.


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