Thursday, 11 January 2018

Sick in the head and stuck in bed

Having a rock bottom, I hate myself day today.

Its worse when you know logically you are really blowing things out of proportion, that you have everything you could need to live a happy full life, that people love you, that you have a roof over your head, prosperity, food in your belly and many things in your bright future to keep you going.

Its worse because on any other given day I know how lucky I am, and compared to others I have no reason to feel so low.

I am literally making myself sick in the head while stuck in my sick bed.

Its attachment to achievement that drags me down. Validation through action so tightly ribboned around my present, that I cant gift myself the position of being ill.

I tell me and friends tell me – Its ok to not be ok.

So why do I lay here crying about how hard today feels for me?

My obvious good fortune on paper, makes things worse for me. Especially all the small meaningless tasks I have been putting off. All those things that will take 10 – 20 minutes.
‘oh I can do that tomorrow, it wont take 10 minutes.’
‘I can do that in the Christmas holidays.’ 
‘ach its Christmas, do it in the new year.’ its new year.

I look at the long list of things to do and berate myself for not having done them yet.

My neggy naggy voice (he’s called Ken) tells me what a waste of space I am. He tells me over and over that I am not as focused organised clever I like to think, because LOOK!!! here is the proof that you actually don’t get things done. Right here. Actual proof. Here is a list of things you should have done when  you very first noted they needed doing.

You are letting things slip, says Ken.
You are lazy, says Ken.
You are worthless, says Ken

And there it is. One day of feeling low and doing nothing and Ken tries to rewrite everything good I believe about myself.
Why am I like this today?

Have a experienced a trauma – no.
Have I done something wrong – no
The answer - I am ill. That is all.

And being ill is stopping me from thinking straight, from acting normally, from speaking with my usual compassionate filter. Ken should recognise that I have good reason for not functioning well.
I have a truly rotten cold. Not flu, (that is a different bug bear of mine, which I may explain another time) but it is a bad cold. My temperature keeps going up and down. I have limited lung capacity, excessive phlem, sore throat, a horrid cough and a banging headache. Along with all of these physical symptoms, somehow in between coughing up crap and blowing my nose I seem to have lost my sense of self and my sense of humour.

In fact people trying to have a laugh or cheer me up are severely pissing me off.

Usually on days like this I hide away from people. But I cant. I have a lovely lodger who does not deserve to feel the force of my forked tongue. I have a beautiful partner who I most definitely do not want to see me like this, let alone hear the absolute garbage that is spilling from my mouth.
I have a virus but it seems to have infected my personality too.
I have self loathing for being unable to function, even though I tell myself on a minute by minute basis to not be so hard on myself.

I am run down, my poison parrot, or as I like to call it the extremely loud and obnoxious neggy naggy voice in my head that behaves like the drunken asshole in the pub who we all placate but never respect, takes advantage and shouts as loud as possible about how little I am achieving. As if sleeping, healing and being able to get myself and my ferocious headache to the bathroom and back isn’t accomplishment enough.

Ken is trying to undo all the good I have done so far this year.

Even as I ponder that last sentence I struggle to think of what the fuck good I have actually done already this year...

So as the day wears on and I sleep the dopey sleep of those who use night nurse during the day I realise that todays accomplishments will be simple:

  • get showered
  • get dressed
  • be kind to self and others
  • go to house viewings
It is taking all that I have not to bite the head off of everyone who talks to me. So I find myself hoping the houses wont be suitable, so I don’t actually have to negotiate meaningfully with anyone.

As I said, its a day for making myself sick in the head when actually I am just stuck writhing around in my sick bed.