Dear Diary,
My plan for the day will seemingly involve getting ready for work, and then once I'm at work I'll be working outside (i.e in the cold) for a few hours. I will likely wear my new favourite jumper. I had a strange feeling at counselling yesterday. I'm not sure what I achieved, or why I bothered talking , or what kind of response I gave to the counsellor. The counsellor was less than objective in her suggestion that I should continue sessions. The counsellor was pushing the point a bit, but maybe more because it was a penultimate session.
I don't know how to say goodbye. Do I say thank you? Do things have to end on a positive note? The more I enforce the recent narrative that I'm 'depressed' or 'things are not doing so well', the more I will seem to believe it. Today hasn't been as productive as say, a good day in October, but I have managed to clear a little bit. I pushed forward. In other news my calorie intake is severely reduced. I seem to have less appetite. That's only a good thing. My weight loss is accelerating at an amazing speed. I'm invariably going to expect when it slows down again, or when I start gaining weight again.
I think what I'm feeling is that I'm taking too much for granted. I am going to miss her, as a person, and for what she does for me in the sessions. I am going to notice a change of routine, I am going to feel quite a change. I don't know if how I will adjust, or whether things will be better or worse as a result. I do know that I will be £100 richer every month, and I hopefully may avoid taking money out of my ISA so often (I may even be in a position to put money back in, if that's possible!) I am going to miss her. I'm not acknowledging those feelings. I think what I benefitted most from was hearing a question that I would never have considered. Looking at my issues and thoughts with another person to pour over them and adding a perspective of their own. Sometimes I could hear her perspective in her words, I know that counsellors don't usually offer opinions or perspectives, but I did get moments where she seemed to express concern about me.
I guess I miss someone who expresses concern about me. I guess I miss someone being around who actually knows what's going on in my head, knows my history, knows my feelings. Friends can't do that, nor can lovers. I think that's the travesty of our time that the fetish of personality has made everybody impersonal. I'll miss having someone to talk to. All I have today is the resolve that I've done such-and such a task, but not others. I've got work later, I've sent a job application, I've done some job searching and I've done a little reading. Perhaps I should repeat what I said in counselling: it could be better and it could be worse. All things considered, though I'm a bit shitty now, I'm coping pretty well.
It's the anniversary of when I was hospitalised 5 years ago. 5 years ago I could have died. 5 years ago I could have killed myself. Nobody is talking about that. Everyone much would rather pretend it never happened. No one wants to remember it or think about it. Even when it came up in counselling yesterday (she brought it up, not me), I tried to avoid it, but then realised that I couldn't. What do I do now? That has been the question of my life ever since then.
I'll go to work, get home, log my data, catch up on the news, catch up on stray tasks, perhaps play some computer games, sleep, wank a couple of times in between, and then start tomorrow.
It sounds so ordered, but it's not, it's really defined in the moment when I wake up and I dont feel like getting out of bed. Its defined in the moment when my motivation is down or I'm dwelling about all the things that I have to do. It's defined in the moments when I feel 'too tired' to do something but if I don't do it I'll either fail or leave it to the last minute, and if I do that, have i really learned anything since 2006? Every day I live is an attempt to say that my life is worth living. Every day is a challenge to the despair I face all around me, in my life, in my room, in the news, in my family, among my friends. Every day is an attempt to answer the question: why haven't I tried to kill myself again?
To be honest, I can't answer that in any words, nor can I answer if I really do want to live. It's all action and no words to try and answer something like that.
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