Day twenty-eight

Due for an update at the doctor’s in the next couple of days. This week I have mostly been… Lucid dreaming. Boring, realistic, everyday occurences. People I know, doing entirely possible things. Alas, providing me with a wealth of memories of events that haven’t happened, but with the disturbingly real feeling that they have.

Example: Twice this week I dreamt I’d read the rota for work and it said I was in at a certain time, that time being two hours earlier than what it really said. A lot of them are conversations/arguments being had with friends or boyfriend, texts I’ve sent to the boy or ones I’ve received from him in the night, deleted after sleep-reading, and regret this in the morning. Some are about getting up in the night. One saw my man’s niece laughing at me, wearing her hair in very long hippy pigtails. Last night I was scraping snow off my car and desperately trying to get in and shut the door quickly, before a ginger kitten that had appeared, got in (I guess it was dangerous, or I just didn’t want the ginger germs.) In one further back a workmate told me I was pregnant.

Every day for the past couple of weeks, very unlike myself, I have been waking at promptly 8am. Today, despite going to bed at 1:30am last night and waking at 5am to see the boy had fallen asleep with the telly on, I woke up again at 8. I can sleep in bouts of a few hours for a few times after this, like my own natural snooze function. I can just as happily get up and go out into a wintry day. I feel like I’m working my way through the list of side-effects of my meds. Fair enough, as the positives are outweighing the negatives at the moment. I have not had a panic attack since I started them. I worry that this is because I have spent a lot more time with my boyfriend, as it began just before the Christmas holiday, and now I have two weeks without him ahead of me. I have been distracted and stable enough so far to ignore his absence, but this is what has always gotten to me before.

I feel much more grown-up and capable than at the start of the program but am still filled with feelings of dread at certain prospects; most notably those that would be most beneficial to me. I am terrified of failing every day and so no longer even bother to open the job listing emails or the casting calls. I have not sent out any writing to publishers, using technicalities as excuses for procrastination. Perhaps I am just really bloody lazy. Life is nice and cosy and easy at the Nearly Parents’ house, and I feel part of a warm little community. I am generally feeling very looked-after. What is missing now is my self-admiration. I need to put some ‘wow’ back into my self image, and feel like there is actually stuff inside this head that can be used to get me somewhere great. I need to figure out where would be a great somewhere to be. I need to find the key to this tiny little locket that holds the secret to what it is I actually want. Am I just an absolute idiot? Am I such an intellectual that real life depresses me? Reality Bites? I refuse to be one of those delusional pretentious young people who hold ‘work ethic’ and pride above getting on with things, in so far as to push everything good out of their system. Someone give me a hint.

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