When Words Fail

Alright, alright. Honesty hour is here people. Grab a biscuit, find a pillow and take a seat. Let’s get real just for a second. Normal idiocy and and miniature adventures (can’t call myself an explorer when my biggest adventure of late was to a tea shop…) will resume momentarily.

I don’t know what happened, but I think storm Doris took my sanity down with a few of those fence panels earlier this week.

I have no idea why, but the last few days have been a struggle. That purpose is missing. That drive to find it… also missing. There’s a constant battle in my brain. It’s an immense feeling of loneliness and being lost, that hangs onto my back. As if I’m looking for something, but I don’t know what and I’m supposed to. The pressure is mounting to find that thing but I’ve barely begun. I worry the news crews will swoop in soon and report to the world how useless I am, what a waste of space I really am. Then comes the panic. The most abhorrent feeling of pure panic and dread just sets up camp behind my retinas and taints everything with shades of grey (not 50, not like that. Dirty bastards.)

It’s hard to feel weak without logic or reason. To feel overwhelming floods of sadness and not know why. To not be able to explain or express myself, to let people know exactly what kind of a muddle my mind is in. It’s not you, it’s me. No truly, it is. I want to be understood but I don’t understand myself. God, I sound like Alice in Wonderland, “I’m afraid I can’t explain myself, sir, because I’m not myself, you see.”

 I can’t and won’t give up though, no matter how much of a job it is to carry on. I’m doing fine. I’m working to my own time frame, to my own strengths, to my own wants and needs. I don’t need to please others and I do what I can to the best of my abilities always. Small acts of kindness. Small steps forward. Don’t forget to breath and remember you’re human.

So, here we are. The first day of the rest of my life. I’m still going, or as Elton would say, still standing. It’s a strange sort of affair this, but I refuse to admit defeat. I will continue to spin my outlook until it catches the light in the perfect way and shines a rainbow onto everything in it’s path. It’s a slow curve of learning and realisation, where heart ache is inevitable, but eventually I’ll get there. I promise. As Alice says, “I can’t go back to yesterday, I was a different person then.”




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