It’s dark, which I hate, and I’m sitting on my cold bedroom floor because I’m so anxious my chest hurts, and I’m paralysed by indecision. Today I got up and went to work, then when I got back I had dinner and tidied away some clothes. I want a gold star and a medal, because that has been the pinnacle of my achievements today. There are several other things that needed doing but now, instead of doing any of them, I’m paralysed by indecision.
I haven’t changed the sheets on my bed for a couple of weeks, because I keep being too tired or not quite caring enough, so that needs doing. I need to have a shower before tomorrow because I hate myself extra in the mornings and sometimes dragging myself out of bed just in time to get to work on time, sans breakfast, is all I can do. I’ve got to make tomorrow’s lunch for the same reason. And I should have baked something to use up the milk that’s about to go out of date (wasting any food ever also makes me hate myself extra), and there’s probably something wedding-related I should have done, and there is always the washing up.
What I want is for everything to go away. Sleep would achieve that, but even that is a struggle because I’m not in my pyjamas yet and I’ll have to go and clean my teeth with some of the energy I don’t have, and I can’t go to sleep until I’ve done at least one of the things above. But I’m so anxious I can’t decide which thing to do, and it’s rendered me so incapacitated that I’m just here on my laptop, having finally decided to do something slightly constructive (writing this) instead of distracting myself from the anxiety with mind-numbing ‘pursuits’ like Facebook.
The hardest bit here (I speak from experience, because this happens a lot) is taking the first step. Slightly ironically, it’s a step back. I can’t be a completely hopeless case because I still can sit up in bed every morning or rationally assess and prioritise my never-ending to do list, even if part of the process involves a big chunk of feeling so lifeless that even the pain of hating myself for being so unutterably useless can’t spur me into action. If I don’t pick myself up and have that shower now then the tiredness I’m dreading tomorrow from not getting my beauty sleep (all nine hours that I need – no wonder I don’t have time for it) will actually become a reality, and I’ll be here again, same time tomorrow. I’m going to go now.