It's been a bit of a dramatic week. Actually, it hasn't been dramatic exactly, it's been worse. Did you ever play the game Buckaroo? You pile all manner of crap atop a plastic horse and then just when you have a load of brightly coloured bits of tack on it, it bucks and everything goes flying. But before the buck, you sit and you wait and you add things, all the while checking for signs of the impending drama.
I feel like I'm watching the horse thing and just waiting for everything to fly off. Sorry, this is a bit cryptic. I don't want to focus on all the shiny things on top of the horse, because the horse is the important bit. I'm not explaining myself well. I'm fine and safe. I'm overwhelmed with all kinds of different things going on at once though and in a bit of a bitch and whinge mode.
You know me though. Mostly, I love people. I bitch and whinge with the best of them, but I genuinely think that there will always be someone willing to listen to anyone do that bitching and whinging, which all in all gives me one less thing to B&W about. So that's pretty great. And I was reminded of that last night.
Yesterday I ended the day on a low. I'd been in London for the day for my last work commitment (that's one thing piled on top of the horse- I've left my part-time job ahead of starting uni in September) and was meant to meet a friend after my meeting. I found out last minute that she had to work, so I ended up with a few hours at the end of the day, before my train home. Of course, London isn't the worst place to waste a few hours, but I was in bad pain with my hip (anorexia is not kind to your bones and joints) and exhausted and ready for home by the time I left work, never mind by the time I got home at half 10.
On my way home, as my phone battery was declining, I did something I don't do often- I posted a bit of a B&W status. And then my battery died and I got home and collapsed into bed and that was that.
Except, it wasn't. When I checked my social media today, I had a fair bunch of messages from people checking I was alright. Which is really beyond bloody lovely. In the past, I've wondered if people only are interested because my life is so- pardon me- crazy, or if they feel obliged. I can sort of handle the curiosity, because I can get that and hopefully I can smash a few stereotypes whilst I'm at it. It's the obligation that really bothers me.
My therapist has said to me a few times that people choose obligation. They choose to care and if they feel obliged, that's because they care. It's a new way of looking at an old worry of mine and I like it. I want it to be true.
So thank you to those who choose to care. And to those who don't? As long as you care about something or somebody, thank you to you, too.