I think I'm ambling. Prevaricating. Procrastinating. Putting-off. Presuming. Pausing. Pondering. And perhaps a plethora of other P's that don't spring to mind right now. I'm limbo'd. Frozen. Suspended even. In a fog. That is perhaps a more accurate description right now. In a fog. A fug. If you like. Foggy Fuggyness. Like the scene in the Matrix where Neo is in a white room with only Morpheus for company. The world feels to bright and too dull at the same time. Like I only have to tap myself softly and I'll bruise. I feel ridiculously under-confident,stupid and dense, lonely, isolated, lost, fragile and all to hyper aware of myself at the same time. My voice, my laugh, my movements. I look at my reflection and feel like there is a stranger residing in my face. It feels like the candle has been snuffed out. That I am not 'alight' just a fading ember.
*sigh* How depressing is THAT. *head - meet desk*
I feel perhaps I am taking myself all too seriously and I need to lighten up. (Although if you said this to my face I would probably punch you in the face.) I am doing what I always do. Placing unnecessary pressure upon myself to 'perform'. To measure up. To meet the criteria that I feel is expected of me. And I've done it again. Tripped over that flimsy line of Who 'I am' and the 'Acted version.' I'm a fecking eeeeediot.
The time that has passed since my Dad has died has been one of never-ending acting. I have, (once again), put on a show for others because I have felt that they require me to be a certain way. I have felt that I have had to pick up the torch, carry the flame and lead everyone out into the light. The only problem is that once I have done that, I feel no sense of achievement. There is nothing I have gained. No progress report. No further diagnosis. No passing of go. My year has been filled with Chemo results. Blood count results. Platelet levels, white cell counts. Tumours shrinking or not shrinking. Spreading or not spreading. Operations, post-operative recovery.
And now?
Well. It's all stopped hasn't it. That driving force that has propelled me forward has been switched off. Like an addict from their heroin, I'm in withdrawal. So I tried to replace it with work. And immerse myself in there. However I quickly realised that I had just placed myself into stress over-load and *BOOM* before you know it, two and a half months on, and I find myself sobbing in the chiller over a Ham joint that's out of date.
Oh. My. Very. Dear. God.
So I find myself signed off of work. And being assessed for depression. Which left me sat there slack jawed and a bit shell shocked.
It seems, like a de-magnetised compass I have lost my direction a bit. I've lost my Va-Va-Voom. My Boing. etc....etc.... I hate feeling like this. Because I feel I'm a permanent Eeyore & No-one wants to be around that! I'm usually the one picking people up. Making them laugh. Maybe I should let them do this for me? Maybe, just this once, its ok for me to be the one looked after. To be the one who needs a bit of time.
In so far as that 'twinkle in my eye' goes. Its still there. I'm not stupid. I know that logically my RAM is full and I need to clear down my cache and delete my cookies in order for my paging file to have a hope in hell of using any virtual memory at all. And that trying to run Word and Power-point at the same time at this juncture would be an OUTLANDISH mistake. Deep down, underneath all this adult heap of crap shit, is that giant 12 year old who wants to blow stuff up, and throw popcorn at the back of people's heads in the cinema. The New Year brings with it a promise of new things. And maybe, by then, I'll have crawled out from underneath it all.
Bring on 2012. I believe I will be ready for you.............
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