“Something was going on in her mind, something she could not name or stop; but it was almost as though she were her mind’s prisoner, as though the jaws of her mind had closed on her” – James Baldwin
As I’m writing this
It’s 11:21 am.
I can see that it’s a Sunday but my brain feels like it’s one of those grey and miserable Monday mornings.
My dad is in the bath singing along to Linkin Park, and that alone is making me tear up.
I just feel a bit … out of it.
Sometimes I forget that I’m a human being. It’s so weird to explain but I think a number of things have been kidding my brain to the point where nothing feels real. I am made up of flesh and bone, my brain can make my mouth move and my eyes blink. I have ears and hands, hair and feet and I am alive. Yet more often than not I forget that. I almost become too self aware of the fact that I have a functioning mind and body to the point where my brain convinces itself that its dreaming, and that I’m not actually here.
Yet on the other hand, I’m almost too aware of the fact that I’m alive, to the point where I realise that at some point everything will stop. One day my mouth will stop moving, my eyes will stop blinking and it will just all stop. I won’t go into too much about this part of my brain because it sets off a lot of my biggest fears and issues and this will already be a rambly post as it is. But I get so aware of the fact that this is all happening that I convince myself that I should be doing more with my life, instead of wallowing at home by myself.
It makes me angry. I feel angry at myself for feeling this way. My life at the moment is pretty great – kinda like how this photo is all bright and colourful (thanks snapchat for the fab filter). I have a job, I’m earning money, I enter my last year of uni and I still have my wonderful Connor. Yet nothing feels in focus. I keep telling myself that this is how my life is but my brain can’t quite zone in on it all. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of responsibilities and expectations that I’ve put on myself and because I don’t feel 100% here in my own body, I can’t seem to pull myself out of it. I’m blinding myself with how colourful my life should be feeling and I just end up feeling spaced out and lost.
“My hands have been ripped to shreds from shredding boxes. My feet feel on fire and rock hard like some kind of lava. My mind feels like it’s been roasted yet my emotions have been cold.”
It’s hard to explain just how I’m feeling. I’m either one extreme or the other right now. I either love myself or I’m noticing that my stomach might just be little bit more than bloat, or that I’m totally loving my legs but I tell myself that I don’t get sad when I see stretch marks all over them. I take photos in my nice new pyjamas but I haven’t washed my hair in like 4 days, my hands are cut up and rough from work and I feel like I will ruin them with my lack of self care.
I’m desperately trying to keep on top of things. Last year working at Waitrose absolutely ruined my creativity, I went a good 6 months without posting any proper content and I’m trying to make sure that the same doesn’t happen this year. For one, I’m in a far better mindset creatively (she says as she’s been doubting her ability going into FMP time at uni, fab) but I just feel like I’m more on top of that side of my life at the moment.
Who knows, it might just be a phase. But right now I’m running at about 50% and I’m desperately trying to myself back on track again.
Here’s to trying to be human. Whatever that is.