Emerging from the rubble

Today is Wednesday but in my head it feels as though it should be three days further on. The days seem to have dragged on yet have also been over in a flash. There have been no mood swings in either direction yet it has been a dramatic week in my head.

Five days ago I felt incredibly disenchanted with and irritated by the world and (almost) all the people in it. I pulled up the drawbridge on the hermitage and spent a few days editing photos, writing, reading & daydreaming a little.

I often feel at odds with the world so separating myself from it is something I do a lot. The advantage of being the mad woman with all the animals is that when I can’t stand to be around people then the animals will soothe away the irritations of what people call real life.

Yesterday was a day of dissociation and today is further confused. The clocks changed last weekend and the coming weekend goes on for four days which means the structure I normally have in my week is blown apart. People will tell me they know how I feel when they really have no idea. The clock changing thing isn’t a few days of catching up it screws with my sense of time and I lose track of what day of the week it is. It’s a major disruption for me and it can go on for weeks. Whether this has anything to do with the damage that manic depression has done to my mind over the years is debatable but it happens and it’s very real.

Last night I had a lady come round to do a home check as I’ve applied to adopt a dog through an animal charity based in Spain. I sat and answered all her questions, volunteered solutions from experience and all the while tried not to burst out of the thin sheet of normality I’d plastered across myself. It was hard work but she was happy with me and so it was a positive outcome. When she left I burst into tears. I was happy that I’d passed the home check but also relieved that she’d gone and I could melt back into me.

Today my sense of time is still very disjointed. I’m writing this at 20.45 and it feels like mid afternoon. It’s hard work and it’s paired up with a feeling of being detached from those I would voluntarily spend time with even though things are more than ok in my relationships with them. I feel a little paranoid and I know that it’s irrational but that doesn’t help. I’ve got to sit and wait for all this to pass.

I wasn’t ill when I started my retreat from life, I’m certainly not well now but it’s moving onwards of its own accord. It does this whatever I do about it. I’ll be glad when it passes over, not just for the peace I’ll have in my head but also freedom from the destructive eating pattern that always accompanies dissociation. I eat for England, I eat rubbish and I have no control over it so I’m really looking forward to being able to choose to eat fruit again.

Meanwhile it’s on with sorting through the rubble…

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