Bad Day

39-2016-12-30-14-51-49Some days I can write quite coherent, long, and articulate blog posts. Some days I can’t. Yesterday was one of the “can’t” days.

In fact, yesterday was a “can’t” day in general. I spent the morning in bed, hardly able to move, unable to speak for stretches of time, and feeling very very low, very out of place in the world, very sad and angry. Most things I encountered either on social media or the television (with the exception of the film that I’m watching over and over again on DVD) just made me even sadder or angrier. Something on the news about people who worked hard getting rewarded – which is so counter to my experience, having worked my butt off all my life and landed in middle age feeling like it has all been for nothing. Some article online written by a parent going on about the tragedy of her kid being diagnosed autistic – believe me, it’s a greater tragedy not to know and to waste your life chasing impossible dreams. Even the autism groups and blogs about people who received their diagnosis, people who receive help and benefits I can’t even manage to apply for – I have no diagnosis and I feel like I arrived really late to the “autism party” and everyone else knows what to do about it and I don’t because I’ve spent my life learning to be somebody I’m not and I don’t actually fit anywhere at all. I wanted to debate and engage and work out how to say things without it coming across as rude or accidentally insulting somebody or something, but I could hardly find words for anything. I stared at the maths assignment that I was utterly unable even to contemplate and the running shoes and the viola I didn’t have the energy to use and the washing machine I didn’t have the energy to work out how to fix and the list of people I need to e-mail and thought about the things I want to do and how much I do want to do them but how hard some of them might be for me and what I can commit to. I sat for over an hour with my phone, unable even to type a facebook status saying “Bad day today”. The fight was gone. I wished I hadn’t woken up at all. I didn’t even have enough translation power to make the words I’ve now just typed from the muddle and feeling of bad bad angry sad going round my head in a constant loop.

The brain and the iron willpower, as usual, kept me breathing. By evening I was starting to emerge from the shutdown. I managed to eat the dinner that my husband put in front of me. I managed to write a short poem-thing. I didn’t manage to post it on the blog because the effort of working out how to use the computer was beyond me. So I’m posting it today instead. And pulling myself out of the abyss – again.

Today not good.
Words very hard.

Angry about so many things.
Sad about so many things.

So many bad thoughts.

Can’t even find words to say.

My life such a waste.

It is all too late.
Damage all done.

Whole morning shut down.
Jobs not done.
Life falling apart.

Like I am.

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