I’ve been feeling overwhelmingly inadequate. Not just lately, but probably for the last 3 months. Like I’m a spare part that’s no use to anyone. Hard to describe. But I’m failing everything. And everyone.
Uni. The first term. Queue a meltdown on the train on my way to my first class. Trying not to cry on a packed train full of commuters is a newly acquired skill. I actually loved my first term. I’m the least cool in my whatsapp group but I can handle that. Now I’m in a class full of mainly academics and post graduates talking about theories and approaches that are so far over my head if I was in the sea, I’d be at the bottom of the ocean. I should leave me to drown.
Maybe I’m just being cynical. But when you’ve so little self-belief, because someone had a way of belittling you that you actually start to believe what they’re saying is true. You’re fat, you’re not doing anything to change. You’re deluding yourself. I probably am. Who am I kidding? I left a decent job to be a nurse and look how that ended up? Stick to what you know, Sharon, fucking up anything half decent in your life. Because you probably are deluding yourself.
I’ve had a pretty decent life, despite the hideous birthmark, the one that people still make a point of pointing out, ironically. Wow, that’s a big red mark! Oh is it? Really? I hadn’t fucking noticed, I’ve only been walking around for the last 41 and half years with it, how the fuck did I not notice it? I’m learning to treat people with the same sarcastic contempt they treat me. Pointing out the fucking obvious to satisfy your curious need to know why I don’t look like the average white person. Oh what a super bitch I’ve turned into.
2020 and it’s still the same old shit, but revisited. I drink more than I did 20 years ago, except I go out drinking less. I’m the old fart in the pub drunk after a glass or two of prosecco. Happy days. Some days I’m life of the party, other days, I just can’t bare to be around or talk to anyone. I’m a useless friend.
This life probably isn’t going to get any better if I don’t try. But when you’ve nothing much to keep you going, then why keep going? Back at counselling again, because: because sometimes I just don’t have the energy to keep living. Because I actually miss someone so fucking much it hurts. Everyday, walking the same corridors at work, wondering, is this going to be the last day I walk down here? Will this be the last day I speak to the man who waits patiently outside the renal ward for his wife 3 days a week while she’s having dialysis? Why don’t I appreciate life like she would? She doesn’t have the freedom I do. I’m an ungrateful person. If I could give my freedom, I’d trade it to someone more worthy in a heartbeat. The fact that my kidneys and liver are probably wrecked is no comfort either.
I’ve got an appointment with the work occupational health doctor in a weeks time. The same man, who prior to my breakdown in 2016, told me ‘you’re not depressed, just slightly anxious. Here, read this [extremely pretentious text on how not to be you]’. Not once actually asking me what my symptoms are or even looking up from his desk. I was caring for my mum, we’d found out what we suspected, but hoped was wrong, that her cancer was terminal. His response ‘parents get ill, they die. You’ll get over it.’ Nearly 2 years on from her death and no I haven’t. I learn to live with it each day, and still relive the last horrific hour. But by far the worst comment by this ‘doctor’ was this: ‘you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself’. Let’s get something straight: I don’t for one minute ever or have ever felt sorry for myself. Self pity is an ugly emotion. Do I wish I hadn’t been born? Yes, often. Do I go to sleep and hope I don’t wake? Also, yes. But I don’t feel sorry for myself. I don’t want people’s pity, or sympathy. Just some acknowledgement that actually, it’s not been plain sailing sometimes. Oh god, I’m dreading seeing this monster again.
I know despite everything, I’ve been incredibly lucky. My mum always said to me growing up, on a bad day, there’s always someone worse off than you, just dealing with it, without complaining. She was always right. I was and I still am lucky, sometimes, I’m so numb, so empty, I just need reminding.
@specsygurl
tetheredinthedeepend 