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’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.
As the weekends arrive with the passing of each working week, I’m finding it increasingly more difficult to remove myself from under the duvet.
Image found on Instagram and is not my own.
Getting up in the morning is proving to be hard. Now, I could blame many aspects for this, including the time of year – but the weather, for one, is quite mild considering we’re almost halfway in to December. More importantly; I’m working to remind myself to be emotionally responsible and intelligent, with regards to my feelings.
It is not because of anything or anyone external that I am struggling to get out of bed. It is me.
Instead of dwelling on that, I’m going to try and write about how to I look for ways to get me going each Saturday and Sunday.
This post will have nothing to do with the Eminem single that rose Dido high and up in to the limelight in the earls 00s… Even though I’ve ironically been subjected to listen to that artist’s ‘noise’ over the past few days at work!
Today, I want to write about the autobiography of Stan Collymore; a former-Premier League footballer (soccer player) who, later on in his short-lived career, received a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder.
What I haven’t yet mentioned is that I’m off work until Thursday this week. It’s rare for me to take any time off (I’m sure there’ll be more days and weeks like this before the year ends) but I decided to force myself to take a break for once. Back in September, I had hopes and the beginnings of plans to go away for a weekend or two but other ‘surprise expenses’ closed the curtain down on that.
I’d planned to take this time off to do some things for myself (mostly walking); to try and enjoy a bit more of my life. My mum’s been on holiday for almost two-weeks now and so, it’s also been a bit of an experiment in noticing how or if my mood is different with one less person in this house…