Don’t worry this isn’t going to be an action movie thriller story, instead, it’s the sad story of me doing everyday things that have seemed like an absolute mission the last couple of weeks.
When I feel awful and retreat to my natural habitat that is my bed, I really struggle with certain things. Now, this is where I’m going to sound like an absolute slob. I will actively avoid showering, not cleaning my flat and festering in the same old comfy pyjamas that I’ve lived in for the last few days. At the start of this blog, I was knee-deep into that stage. I’m pretty sure the only thing that got me out of it was the fact that my boyfriend smartly but sneakily said that he was coming round, I know that he wouldn’t run away if he saw me in full troll state but no one wants an ogre living in a swamp for a girlfriend, no matter how miserable she is.
So after some huffing and puffing, I managed to do the washing up, as the only clean kitchen items I had left were one teaspoon and a knife. I took my hair out of the messy bun that had been it’s permanent form for the last week and got into the shower that felt like it was created by Lucifer himself. Dramatic I know, but obviously after I felt a little better. One thing I did not budge on was the sofa bed, it had been a great companion in my futile state. It was a start and what I needed to get me out of that stage. That same weekend my best friend needed me, she had her own struggles whilst I was still struggling with mine, but you know what they say, misery loves company and all. So after a weekend of what was something out of a chick flick film with a breakup and house drinking involved, I returned to my habitat.
I don’t know if anyone else gets this but normally after the dirty troll stage, the opposite happens. I feel like I need to scrub everything, throw everything away and just start again. Everything around me irritates me and it all feels cluttered and busy. I know that this is probably just the fact that my brain is so cluttered that I’m taking it out on all of the poor ornaments and cushions around me. So last week was spent deep clean, decluttering and also due to an unfortunate mould problem I was also on ‘mould control’ duty. This happened in every room, starting at the ceiling and cleaning my way down, whilst dragging black bags around with me ready to fill with clutter. I moved my bedroom around, because what else says “you’ve got your life together!” than a freshly re-organised bedroom.
The last impossible thing for me is work. After working out finances and constantly refreshing all job sites and emails in hope that a miracle had happened, I realised that although I really did not want to, I needed to go back to work. Today was the day, I barely slept last night and the hellish 4am alarm came around far too quickly. After a small panic attack before leaving and nearly talking myself out of going back to work, I pushed through and went. Dreading all of the sympathetic “how are you feeling” from people which I know only mean well, I survived all of the welcome backs. It was a hard day, there are a small few in which I talk to and get along with at work but not to the extent that I will divulge the mess that is my brain to. A few times I had to take myself outside or to the toilet just to get my brain together and to remind myself that I need this job as I need a roof over my head, but if anything today has really shown me that the job is no longer for me.
I’m telling myself that I just need to get through this week, then luckily I have a week of annual leave where my plan is to just apply for even more jobs. I have a session with my new coach this week through Young Women’s Trust, let’s hope they can find me the dream and help me make the impossible feel possible again.