For many years, I have believed that I am ‘not suited’ to working five-days a week. I’ve tried explaining it to people but true understanding is hard to find. A most common response is: ‘Well, I have to do it!!’ It could be a matter of perspective; it could be a lack of satisfaction in what I do. Either way, my bills will never disappear and I feel resigned to enduring life just so that I can keep earning and giving money away.
I changed jobs last year. A change for the better? Maybe. But I knew in advance that this was never something I was going to want to do long term. I fell out of love with it almost immediately my general mood has been deteriorating since Christmas. I’m snacking a lot. I feel and fear I’m putting on weight. Insomnia is a long-term presence within my life. I often think about ‘not going in’… And I’ve done this a few times. My boss knows about my anxiety issues. But I always have to return or hide away as the same person and I know, deep down, that running away is not the answer.
For six-months now, I’ve been wondering. Unknowing. Unable to receive a response. It was only while talking to someone else about their own problems recently that I realised I could to my writing, in an effort to restore order and peace to my mind. If only for a short while.
Once again, it’s been a while since I last wrote here and it’s been even longer, I’m sure, since I last wrote about love.
Beware though, because I come writing with good news! Followed by a familiar hint of anxiety.
It’s late. I should’ve gone to be a while ago. I should be in bed now, knowing that I have to go ‘there’ and continue this furious routine for another day.
But, I want to sit here and write. I’ve been bothered with ‘W’ for a while and had intended to sit down and write about this sometime last week… It hasn’t happened because I’ve been too busy. Too tired. Too anxious. Too many excuses.
Let’s write about work, when I should be resting in preparation for the next day, I say.
I had intended to join in with a group activity event today. It’s something I do quite regularly and I still owe many thanks to ‘B’ (if ever she reads this) for suggesting the idea AND finding the information five years ago.
I could be off now, trying to do something on my own… Instead, I’ve chosen to sit here and write. Partly so that I can hide away from the world but also, in an attempt to save myself from too much inner suffering and slaughter.
I came here a few weeks ago for the first time in months. I wrote something and found it beneficial. It would be nice to think that it really ‘gets it out of your head’ but I realise what I’m actually doing is sharing, with everyone and no-one (as an anonymous blogger). By writing here, I’m lessening the burden I place upon myself.
So, I’m back to write some more today. Already, having written very little, I feel a microscopic improvement.
Today is World Mental Health Day!
…Or, was that yesterday?…
Well, the date isn’t as relevant, as we could all learn to be more open to talk with less of an ‘excuse’ to do so.
I feel as though I’m suddenly beginning to learn and understand something I had no previously questioned or examined within myself.
At the time of writing, it remains an ‘enquiry’, with my interest still highly peaked.
I’ve been struggling of late, more than I am somehow prepared to admit. It’s almost as if admitting to it will see me weaken, drop my guard and fall in to some kind of low-level breakdown… I don’t know. I feel like my insomnia has somehow taken over, even though I’ve been earning an extra hour in bed.
Over the last few months, I’ve watched at least a couple of films where the main character suffers some form of insomnia, which then leads to further consequences. In each situation, there is a clear ‘trigger’ for these episodes of lost sleep; some of which, only become apparent (to both the viewer and sufferer) as the film rolls on.
Here, I’m going to write about why I might be suffering with a constant lack of sleep.