Thursday, 12 December 2013

Progress?

My head is a shed right now. And not one of those ones that old men retire to with their Werther's (that's all old men eat, right?), their hip flasks and their old wireless... the shed of my head has no deck chair and leg room; it's one of those crammed full of all that crap you've accumulated over the years, all the rubbish that you really ought to get rid of but just can't seem to throw in the tip. It's jumbled, full of forgotten bits of tack that somehow manage to rise to the surface, and it's all useless mess that needs really to be gotten rid of. Maybe just bulldozed, along with the shed. That doesn't quite fit with the imagery of it being my head though, SO LET'S NOT BULLDOZE MY HEAD.

I'm confused about, well, everything. I'm exhausted. I don't know who I am or what I'm doing. I can't separate myself from the self that I try to project. Am I really such a? Blech. I have seriously cried more over the last few days than I probably have in a year, I genuinely hope I'm PMSing because otherwise I can't blame my hormones for how I'm feeling and really have to face up to things. Sorry, I'm being irritatingly vague. I really hate vagueties (apparently that's not a word, but it really ought to be. I'm going to go all Shakespeare and start inventing words left, right and centre), and I definitely hate that I'm full of them. I want a plan and I want some action, rather than just living in a bubble of beige with nothing more than my demons for company.

Maybe this is progress. The fact that I hope I have PMS definitely is, I've only just started getting periods again and I find them far more exciting than I should. I wish progress wasn't so painful, but I suppose if it was simple it wouldn't be worth anything. Like, right, I tried so hard today to go a day without vomiting, I worked my arse off and felt crap, just for someone to make a fairly innocent comment and for me to spiral out of control. I desperately wanted to be able to tell my best friends and my mum and even my nurse that I'd done it, I really wanted to give people a reason to be proud of me. I know it wouldn't exactly be something that your parents brag to their friends about (I'm always grateful to my brother for giving my parents something to be proud of, when they bump into people they've not seen in a while. I'm not exactly a child to rave about), but it'd mean something to me and, I hope, them.

Life is anything but simple and straightforward and I suppose I wouldn't want it to be, I'd be bored. But a few days respite from my head and a little time, that'd be nice. I'm alright- not everything is as negative as I'm painting. I have real laughs and I have real good times. My mum is incredible, the rest of my family are pretty damn great too, and the friends who continue to stand by me mean more than I can say. A simple, random message from someone can keep me smiling for an hour and a visit keeps me sustained for a week. My friends in here keep me going... I have far more good people in my life than ever before, and far fewer negative ones than ever, too. I need to keep counting my blessings, picking myself up and standing to fight another day. I can do this. I just wish I knew who 'I' am.

2 comments:

  1. I think who we are is defined by the people we love and the things we love doing xx Hope you have a happy xmas! x

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  2. Rebecca, you are an amazing writer, you write with so much honesty that I am instantly drawn in... I feel as you do, I need to remember how blessed I am... I have a lot to be grateful for...

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