I am not sure what is happening anymore. It feels like there is a perpetual fog clouding my vision, obscuring what is behind, as well as what is ahead. I know that Christmas has come and gone; that this year there was no major drama, no screaming parents, or suffocation. There was awkwardness, and anxiety, but there has been awkwardness these past few years. Familiar territory. Everyone is safely home again.
And now it is a new year. Cries of Happy 2017 ring hollow, because this year will be hard. There will be change. There are decisions to be made that I don’t have the strength to make, and other decisions made around me, that I can only hopelessly, helplessly spectate upon. Actions have consequences.
I’m not sleeping well. I wake up, worried about not having a job after June, not having a house after June – or maybe before June. I spoke to a solicitor-friend. The landlord can terminate the contract when housemate is charged – get rid of both of us, if he wishes. We are “individually and jointly” responsible for criminal activity on the premises. I watch the newspapers. The last similar case took 12 months to come to court. I’m not sure how long we’ve got.
I know I should attend therapy, when it is offered. But I can’t logistically make that work, without changing my working hours. And then, I don’t know whether it’s the best thing to do. May be I can manage without it. I don’t feel ill when I’m at work; I react more calmly than I used to. But then comes the suicidal ideation and the screaming inside, from nowhere, and I don’know how to stop it. I want to cry. I can’t cry. And I don’t get “people”. And I hate myself. And I’m exhausted.
It feels like I am trying to force pieces of a jigsaw together, to make up my life, that just don’t fit. Maybe they don’t belong to the same picture. Maybe I just don’t belong to any picture at all.