My mother got me a season ticket to the local zoo for my birthday this year. It is one of the best presents ever. I love hanging out there. Only the addition of some pachyderms would make it better. The animals just are. For whatever reason they find themselves there (the zoo has several previously maltreated creatures) they live, they breathe, they sleep, eat, (roar) and repeat.
Watching them helps to calm the knots of stress and anxiety I seem to be permanently tangled within. Christmas has gone. Christmas was stress-filled.
Awake, I am *constantly* wondering what the next thing to go wrong will be, scared about job security, housing, relationships, my parents’ failing health. Scared I should be doing more. Fearful of the sheer amount of academic work I have to do, and how the hell I am going to juggle it with cat-care and students, when it involves travel away from home in term-time. About how long the ethics panel are taking to process my research applications. Whether the funding will become defunct if they take much longer.
Awake, I am ever hyper-vigilant to whom I might have affronted, offended or upset, by omission or commission. The anxious thoughts circle perpetually around my mind. A never ending what if. I want to scream. I did meltdown completely a few days ago. I am scared I did not work hard enough in therapy. That wouldn’t happen anymore, if I had. I would be able to cope with life. It feels like I cannot.
I am struggling to sleep. It is a farce to say I no longer self-harm. The skin on my hands is picked and peeled back, my feet are in tatters. Eating is hard again. I am exhausted and wary of the low mood baying at my door. Trying to be gentle on myself in this state is tough.
I’m frightened of the consequences of being and doing wrong.
Belonging and Becoming 