You have to wonder why an otherwise sane person would actively throw herself down in the middle of a street. Just stop still and drop. That’s what I’ve just done. I found a flat, cheaper rent, re-borrowed the money I just paid back: then did not apply for it. I came to my senses and rang the agents but the flat had gone. Why would I do that?

There’s a lovely job in the offing, but it means a big move out of area. It would be a dream come true and I would be closer to water. Water means sailing! There would be walking, plenty of walking. Have I stopped because I’m intent on getting that job? Let’s look at the evidence… Have I started packing the house up? Have I applied for this job? Have I just self-medicated and slept for two days? No; no; yes.

Is it as simple as I’m painting it? No. My physical health has been pretty bad. I won’t go into details, I can’t remember how much I’ve shared about all that. Let’s just say I’ve been inĀ  lot of pain. A lot. Pain worth self-medicating with booze type pain. Painkillers don’t come close enough. Then Tuesday when I rang about the flat I took a tablet that I knew would knock me out. Usually, I take a quarter of a tablet for spasms, because I don’t like the after effects… But Tuesday, I took a full tablet and slept.

Then I slept some more. And I woke, ate and went back to bed. My friend came to visit today. He’s in a new place with his new girlfriend and he’s enjoying his new job. Christ, it’s hard to be happy for your friends when you feel so bitter. When he left, I lit up a cig he left me, then went to bed. I couldn’t sleep, mind racing as it is. Trying to find a solution to the no job problem. Why aren’t I getting interviews? When is this agency going to come through for me?

When am I going to gather up another little bit of strength to come through for myself?

The projects I was working on have had to take a back burner because of my dad’s health. But ones on the go again. I’m not taking any joy from it. It requires so much effort, it feels like I’m losing somehow. I’ve been looking for a third act for this show for months. Six acts have expressed interest, just to back out because… Whatever. It’s a drag. I’ve had to announce the two confirmed acts, otherwise we’d have to cancel. Which is irksome, because April and May are booked in!

And the cat? Still alive. I’m still allergic. She’s looking really frail and never gained the weight she lost from her surgery. And I’m just wondering round the house like I’m grieving. I think the blackness is come to claim me and I think I’m going to lose the fight this time. I said I wanted to run a poetry workshop with some female offenders, they’ve given me the go ahead, but I can’t pay to get to the centre haha! Such japes… The woman who said I might be able to get some funding has not been back in touch and I’m too tired to pursue it. I can’t see the wood for the trees at the moment. Round about now would be a good time for my nans inheritance to come through, but that looks like never.

I had hoped after all this time that I might have something sustainable and long lived to cling to. But the only thing I’m holding on to at the moment is my sanity.

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