Loopy, Lonely and Lost

Posts Tagged ‘worry

According to her:

  • She is dying. Immediately (and has been for the past ten years). She went to see a doctor recently, who apparently said she only has months to live. But she didn’t tell us straight after the appointment, she waited weeks and sensitively broached the subject in the middle of an argument.
  • The reason that she is so very ill is that we don’t care. We don’t listen and we want her to die.
  • She knows this because she can hear our thoughts.
  • Oh, and she can predict the future, too.
  • And she wants to die. She hates living and she thinks her death would serve us all right for being such bastards.

It’s okay. I’m used to it. She’s been telling me she’s dying and it’s our family’s fault more or less since I was old enough to understand what she was saying.

It’s hard, though.

I worry that she’s right.

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Okay, so things are still going pretty well.

I feel, weirdly, like me again. A slightly distorted version of me, a me that doesn’t really have any friends, and is sometimes a bit awkward, but really, remarkably…more and more like myself.

I’ve been getting excited about the election. I’ve been buying shoes. I’ve been chatting to the people I work with with surprising ease. I’ve been showering, and eating regularly, and going for walks. Read the rest of this entry »

I’m forcing myself to write here – something, anything. It worries me a little that, even somewhere where I can share my thoughts in relative safety, I am withdrawing, I am finding it difficult.

Things really aren’t bad. I’m subdued, I’m a bit sad, but honestly, it’s been much, much worse in the past. Read the rest of this entry »

I’m still at home, I’m staying until tomorrow.

Life at home is tremendously difficult at the moment. Things are going on, about which I’m wary of going into detail here, where anyone can see it. Basically there is a situation, which is potentially real-world serious (i.e. not just serious in the context of my house, where horrific arguments have stemmed from a single unwashed cup). Everybody is worried, and everybody seems to be disagreeing with each other. I’ve been trying, as ever, to provide some sort of middle ground, some sort of compromise, but, as ever, people don’t really listen. Read the rest of this entry »

I don’t want to go back to university. I don’t want to stay at home. I don’t want to get a job. I don’t want to do anything. All prospects seem equally shit and impossible.

I went to the cinema with some friends last night, and they were all saying, “When are you going back to uni? Are you excited?” and I was just tight smiles and little nods and inside my head, screaming no, I’m not excited, I’m terrified and I’m going to fuck it up like I fuck everything up, and if it was just uni I fuck up then I’d happily quit and go off and do something else, but ultimately I fuck up everything so I might as well fuck up on my own in a little room somewhere with no-one to see it happening. Read the rest of this entry »

Ghost

Posted on: May 24, 2009

I was going to write a post about wearing a mask, about acting like you’re fine when you’re falling apart, about convincing everyone that you’re okay.

But the time has passed.

Today is the third day in a row when I haven’t spoken to anyone. Read the rest of this entry »

Future.

Posted on: April 16, 2009

I’ve calmed down quite a lot today. Haven’t done much – or anything, really – I’ve just been trying to calm down, to relax, to get myself into some sort of state of mind for doing some work over the weekend. It’s mostly working.

But the more I calm down, the less nonsense there is filling up my brain, the more room there is for other stuff – worry and fear, mostly. It’s old news. A re-run. It keeps coming back.

Read the rest of this entry »


Hello

My name is Laura. I was once told that I have cyclothymia. This blog is mostly where I write about living as a person with extremes and instability of mood, and the history of a life that led to the development of those symptoms.

I complain a lot, I'm very repetitive, unreliable, and I tend to contradict myself.

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