DIARY: 17 JUNE 2025
This year hasn’t been going well for me, it might be my worst year since 2015, it’s always the odd numbers i’m cautiously optimistic about, yet to be disappointed. The fact i’ve resulted to writing a dairy again (here and personal in a ‘literal diary’) is usually a sure sign that reality isn’t aligning with my expectations.
I am anxious, all of the time, overwhelmingly. The sedatives which enable me to sleep channel it into a low hum, and rarely work. Usually I would give up on sleep and just work through the night to get ahead of my clients, these days I am unable to do that, I’m debilitated, restless and outrageously pessimistic. To the point i’m sure everyone around me is over it, people are becoming to feel temporary again, my life as I know it feels it could be wiped away with a single manic episode, not even a big one, like everyone is looking for the first excuse to bail, and ready to serve it to them any day now. Just like in 2015. The hallucinations are back which is usually the precursor to the big reveal of what my subconscious has been working on, usually bad, the last time I got the reveal was January which resulted in a severely uncomfortable, sobering and lonely hospital visit. And just like 2015 I know I’ll be alone again. Curious, I know I can’t do it again, things will unfold, most likely disappear, wipe it all away and pick up a new life, again. Time is a flat circle. Sixth time lucky I suppose.
My therapist’s favourite subject, my tendency to “disappear”. You could call this my fifth life, everyone who knows me now, didn’t know me in my previous “life” and so-on. I pack up, I disappear, I start again. I guess it’s just easy, having the current life now tainted with the hospital visit, the stigma follows me every day, I fought being hospitalised for this very reason, friends love to joke about, I don’t find it funny. Keep my hallucinations to myself because surprise surprise, I don’t find them funny either. Should I start pretending to my therapist (who coincidently is the only person i’m not lying to) I’m getting better? Maybe it’ll keep the mental health team off my back, if I keep it up long enough I can be forgotten, can I maintain this life long enough to potentially eventually be pushed to the back?
My creativity right now has been drained dry from my clients, it’s paralysing. The only time I have for myself are the moments when i’m trying to sleep and i’m creating in my minds eye, because that’s all the energy I can afford. Finding mindful moments of peace when the endlessly-numbing chores. Yes, despite my constant ritualistic complaining I do meditate, appreciate moments and seek positives, my work IS fulfilling and I maintain a healthy diet, protein iron vitamin b etc etc, sunlight, fresh air, new experiences, self-appreciation, small celebration, healthy bank balance, no debt, freedom, free-will, small luxuries and guilt-less indulging. “How embarrassing—a house full of condiments and no food” having all the boxes ticked doesn’t change the feeling in the pit of my stomach that doom is impending, all, the, time. I used to be so open, honest, empowered to discuss my mental health, now it's just peddling ammunition to the desperately trigger-happy.
In the mean time, I'll continue to subtly push people away without them even knowing, the psychological warfare with my peers will continue, my subconscious will win, and I will move on, all the while telling myself and everyone around me that, “i’m fine”. Maybe I could give medication another go. Maybe i’ll message that person I’m dying to hear from who I can’t get out of my mind. Maybe I could try harder with my family. Maybe I could tell my friends how their behaviour makes me feel. Maybe I could drop my clients who i’m sacrificing too much time for. Only after disaster can we be resurrected. Maybe I could just disappear, completely.