My brain

Sep. 30th, 2013 12:57 am
hawkwing_lb: (Helen Mirren Tempest)
It does its thing. The odd thing about it is how reliably weird it is, and how I do not recognise until it has already happened why my life is full of rage and vile spite and uncertainty.

At some level, at some points in time, my brain is fundamentally unconvinced that it deserves to ever experience good things. All good things are lies, or traps, or bait: they exist only to make a more pointed mark when they disappear. Whether it's depression, or anxiety, or a Catholic school education that's at the root of this I don't know. I do know that I have a terrible tendency to self-sabotage.

Take, for example, the fact that I have fought with my parent over stupid things tonight. And cannot sleep, and by not sleeping may encourage myself into a relapse of this gods-cursed illness that I thought was nearly done but no! I woke up with a wheeze again today.

Right now, insists my brain, I deserve it. To deserve nice things, one has to become the equivalent of a nun and dedicate one's life to good works. Which - here is the catch! - will never be sufficiently good.

Brain squirrels. At this rate I may need to shoot myself with a tranquiliser gun to shut them up.

Brains are weird. It will be better when I can gym again.
hawkwing_lb: (Default)
I am, in fact, so very far from okay that I find it hard to even see the collapsing waveform of okay from here.

I've spoken to my supervisor, and my doctor. I'm - so far - having bad luck in having and keeping a preliminary appointment with the college counselling service.

If I've been silent here, it's not just that I'm distracted. It's that it seems like my whole world is crumbling, that I can't run up the sand-dune without being pitched back down in the clinging crumbling sand.

The first thing I have to do is get my physical body back in shape. There isn't much point pretending that mind and body are separable: they're not, and since physical fitness is something I can affect, I need to try. Starting gradual.

My to-do list between now and next Wednesday:
Review (and in a couple of cases read) the books for which I owe reviews. A Stranger In Olondria. The Exiled Blade. The Shining Girls. Queen of Nowhere.
Write the materials I need for my progress review: bibliography, analytic commentary, timetable for completion.
Run in intervals for a fifteen-minute count every day, or every second day. (May be starting with 1:2 intervals, but one must begin somewhere.)

I'm trying not to let self-hate and self-loathing and unforgiveness fuck me over too much more. Life, what? It's a funny business.

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