I’ve been avoiding writing. Trying to not repeat myself. Trying not to wallow in self pity. And trying to find happiness.
But all I find is the black hole and I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me? Why cant I just start eating better? Why can’t I just start exercising? Why can’t I go to work and it just be a job that doesn’t affect me? Why can’t I just leave my boyfriend without feeling a deep emptiness that leaves me feeling like I have nothing to live for?
I realised this morning, after waking up and choosing not to go to work for the second day in a row (note I have no sick or annual leave), that my parents hardly ever stayed home sick. I don’t think they ever missed a day of work. Even when I was sick, my mum would look after me in the day (she worked night shift) and my dad would take over at night.
My mum was my age when she had me and she already at two other kids. They were poor. But they kept going. They kept finding ways to make it work. My grandparents never helped them.
It makes me feel weak and useless. I only have to look after me and I’m struggling. I can’t even get myself to work or be healthy or make my salary last a month. I thought accepting that my dad was emotionally abusive would help me heal. But it’s just made me dig deeper and wallow more. I feel fragile. I feel like I’m walking around with a giant wound that’s covered only by a thin plaster. My shell is gone.
Works been horrible these last three weeks. They’re looking to fire people so they’re handing out warnings for everything. Times in and out. Sticking to schedules. All these tiny things that shouldn’t matter in a creative industry.
I feel physically and mentally broken. And it’s been a while now. It’s been long since I felt like me and I felt truly happy in my skin.
Somewhere along the line the self loathing took over who I am. I feel like medication is not an option right now. It feels like giving in.
I know that somehow I can get myself through this. I can get passed it. I just don’t know how. I’ve been thinking about giving in and moving to my brother since nothing in this city makes me happy… But that feels like acknowledging I’ve failed.
I’m gonna decide in a month. As they say, don’t make decisions when you’re sad.
I should be writing a script right now but instead I’m lying in bed watching one Tree hill and wallowing.
I’ve put up “I am…” sentences around my flat to try and make me feel them. Words I believe are true to me :
I am smart.
I am funny.
I am fun.
I am caring.
I am adventurous.
I am strong.
I am me.