Entry 20: August 11th, 2016 (Week 16)

sketch-doodles-confusion-29180497It feels like I’m a long way from home.

In my head I know that ultimately, everything is going to be okay – it always is – but I can’t shake what I’m feeling. It’s almost completely involuntary, but there is still an element of choice in there somewhere, right? I absolutely have to believe that, or I may as well just give up on maintaining any perspective at all and let go entirely.

I find myself feeling so tired today. Not a crippling, physical tiredness, like what I felt a few weeks ago. This is more being worn down somehow. As though all of my defensive armour has become rusty and I can’t afford to replace it, or clean it, so I’m wearing it, burdened by it, but it doesn’t offer me the protection that I think I want. Maybe I’ve taken myself too far and ignorance has brought me here; I didn’t realise how this would feel. I thought I’d experienced fear. I hadn’t. This is a whole new level of being afraid, and I’m too scared to even attempt to delve into what I’m actually afraid of. I haven’t been here in a very long time. If I start trying to understand it, and pick it apart.. The sheer number of things coming at me at once is crippling. There’s too much to consider. Some people really are alone. I’m not. But sometimes I feel it. And it’s not because people aren’t here. Some are here in physical presence but not in mind. Some are in mind, but not in physical presence. One is here in both. I’m just so afraid of so many things at this point that I’m not even able to share it. I just keep trying to suppress it, forget about it, and hope that it passes. Perhaps it will. Tomorrow is a new day, after all.

Every moment is a new experience. Small acts of kindness hit me hard. The loneliness of the masses hits me hard as I travel through London. I saw a man and a woman on the platform of the tube today – filled with faces that were trying to ignore the world around them – and the man kissed the woman on the head and stroked her hair. At 5 30 on a packed London tube platform, there are few things a very vulnerable me could have wanted more at that point. I just wanted to be enveloped and protected and looked after, because I felt so fucking tired.

The trains were horribly delayed. I didn’t know if I’d make my bus, and if I miss it, I have another hour to wait in the glorious evening sunshine of hormonal hell. It was a stressful thought. As more and more delays and cancellations were announced, I found myself noticing how much the platform was filling up. I felt angry that I was even having to deal with the situation. Why am I putting myself through it? And I realised why I felt angry. It’s because I don’t think I have a choice.

I do, I suppose, but I’m surrounded by people who don’t have to go through it. In the grand scheme of things, I have it far better than them, really, but at that moment… I wished someone would just come and save me.

I don’t even know why I’m thinking about that now. The thing I really wanted to remember, was what happened when the late train finally arrived, and crowds of angry commuters were strategically pushing their way to the front of the queue for the doors. I stood waiting for the doors to open, when a guy, tall, chubby, with headphones in, looked down at me and noticed my baby on board badge. He proceeded to put his arm behind me, blocking the people behind me from pushing in front of me, and gestured for me to step on the bus. I literally welled up as I said thank you, because it was genuinely kind. He just seemed to care. He noticed. He paid attention. I suppose I wanted someone to pay attention.

I’m pretty sure my belly popped today.

My stomach has gone from feeling bloated, to feeling… Big. Perhaps it’s just due to extra croissants, but I don’t think so. I think it has more to do with things processing and the beginnings of the proper physical manifestation of all this craziness.

I don’t know if it’s right to think this… I think I’m a terrible person for even having the seed of the consideration.. But I wonder if I might regret this decision. Maybe my career really will be over. Maybe I’ll become this horrible, resentful person who is angry and controlling because the whole scope of their life reduces to the crying of a baby and the walls of the house. Maybe we’re not ready. What if I’ve signed a destruction warrant on my life and self actualisation? Do I really have the strength and resolve to be a good parent, both to myself and our child? I haven’t done a great job of either so far. I don’t want my child to read Jungian quotes like “the greatest tragedy of the home is the unlived lives of the parents” and to then look at me and see the truth of it.

What was this like for my parents? I go through this and I find myself thinking of what my Mum suffered and want to cry. Often I do. But still, I’m scared to. I feel so worn down that I don’t know if I can keep dealing with things. Somehow I’m regressing. I can’t lean on anyone for support, even if they offer it, but I’m angry that it isn’t offered in the way I would expect. Or want, maybe. I want to be looked after, and I am, I’m looked after so well, but for some reason that I can only attribute to sheer childish selfishness, I want more.

“I’m sinking in the quicksand, of my thoughts

And I ain’t got the power, anymore”

It’s not in the order of the album, but whenever I hear that in my head, my brain starts to play “Eight Line Poem”.

“Will all the cacti find a home

But the key, to the cityyyyy

Is in the sun that pins the branches to the sky, oh whoah”

That takes me right back to summer 2007 in Hither Green. I wasn’t half as crazy then. Stoned yes, but not crazy. I’m far crazier now that I’m fully aware of how utterly insane everything is and can’t attribute it to something that I’ve ingested.

Sometimes I miss that escapism. I suppose I always had something to run from; and at that time I was running. Perpetually. But it’s tough to stand still and be quiet. You’re forced to deal with so much more.

“My yellow in this case is not so mellow / in fact I’m trying to say,

It’s frightened like me / and all these emotions of mine keep holding me from  / giving my life, to a rainbow like you but I’m /

Yeah, I’m bold as love, yeah yeah”

I hope so. Maybe one day.

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