I've not blogged in a very long time.
As a result I'm a bit of a loss as what to say. I'm a bit of a loss with what to do with myself at all really.
It's like feeling completely empty. All the things I set aside for myself to do today have completely evaporated. I've done what you're supposed to do. Write a colourful list with pens at the ready to tick off your tasks when you finish them with enormous satisfaction. But the trouble is I don't really feel too much at the moment. I look at the list and I look at it some more. I start one of the things, but nothing sinks in. I breathe, take a moment and try again but it's like smacking my head against a glass wall. I can see what I need to do clearly enough, but it's just not happening.
So I'm blogging in an attempt of working things out. Do I continue to bash my head against this glass wall? Surely it will smash eventually? Or do I admit that today is a bad day and resign myself to just a quiet time where I don't have to think about being myself at all?
I look at my little sister with envy. She's asked me if I'm okay a few times and I've responded with the correct response 'I'm fine'. She's happily painting and chattering about anything and everything. Her current idea to get her paintings to dry quicker is pointing a toy hairdryer at it. She may be there a while. I wouldn't even know how to begin to explain to her that the big sister she worships feels numb and going down a black hole.
I said that I'm not feeling anything. But the truth is I do. Fear. Terror at my own existence. Which may make no sense to you, as my own existence is all I have ever known; but that that's why I went into acting. Escapism.
I'm looking at old photographs to try and evoke some kind of positivity. But I don't recognise anyone, not even myself. I think of a story to write but a loud voice screams that I can't do it and smacks me round the head leaving a ringing in my ears. The same loud voice comes back for anything else, piano playing, guitar playing, colouring in - the list continues. It taunts me when I try to learn the new material for work, the only way to shut it up, it seems, is to not do anything at all.
Mental illness is a horrible thing to explain to people. For some reason if you tell someone that your blood sugars are all over the place because of diabetes - they can accept it even if they haven't experienced it. If you tell someone that you have little demons in your brain that pop out every now and again to control your head, they go one of three ways. The first of course is supportive and just what you need. The second is to dismiss any notion of mental illness - it's attention-seeking etc. They see any form of mental illness as a weakness in character. The third type is the suddenly proclaimed (but well-meaning) doctor. They'll lecture you on how you don't need medication - what you need is a good colouring in book or to look at pictures of animals. Instead of counselling you can listen to music, have a bath or go for a walk. They don't often appreciate that it can be too scary to go outside.
I blog about this not to try and dwell on things. It helps my own logical brain come out past all the blaagh. It's like putting together a puzzle for me. I acknowledge my sadness. I let myself feel negative emotions that you're not actually supposed to feel. Writing them down allows me to work out why I feel them and see if there's a pattern.
When I feel like this a quote always comes to mind and today I'm going to cling onto it.
'Before Alice got to Wonderland, she had to fall down a pretty deep hole.'
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