Today. Today. Today.


My first post since ‘the big reveal.’ To be honest, I thought my first blog post would be about something that has happened in the past. I wanted to write something that people in my position can identify with, to tell them, “you are not alone”. But, feeling how I’m feeling today, I can’t help but start here. For myself. For my sanity. So I apologise if this first post seems self indulgent and I hope you’ll allow me a pass on this.

Today. Today. Today. I feel overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the support I’ve received via text message, whatsapp, Facebook etc. Honestly, it’s amazing. I didn’t expect to raise so much, so quickly. I also feel overwhelmed emotionally. I struggle to understand and process my emotions when it comes to the little things, like choosing what to eat. So trying to process the flood of emotions and sheer volume of input I have right now is hard. Too hard.

I would assume (and I know we shouldn’t assume anything, but once again, indulge me) that most people would be expecting me to be in good spirits today. Happy to be raising sponsorship. Happy to be raising awareness. But I’m not. I’m low. Lower than a snakes belly. I cannot cope.

I apologise that this is scatter gun, but that’s how I feel so I’m gonna roll with it. Ordinarily when I write I go over and over it. Changing words, punctuation. I like flow. I like structure. I like telling a story. Today that all goes in the purple bin (tip of the cap to Jurgen Klopp). I’m writing it as it comes. I’m not gonna read back over it. It is what it is. I’m not even writing on my laptop. I’m sat in Nandos on my phone (I’ll try to get to that). So, this may be the worst piece I’ve ever written. I would kindly request you forgive me, I promise it will be better in the future, please come back.

Overwhelmed. Last night I nearly deleted my Facebook account. The notifications. The messages telling me how brave I was. I couldn’t hack it. I can’t hack it. I felt stupid, not brave. I still feel stupid now. Bravery is some of the things I’ve had to do at work. Bravery is going to war. Bravery is fighting cancer, standing up for your rights, defending those who cannot defend themselves. I just did something I’m good at. I wrote a post on Facebook. Writing what I did was a piece of piss. It’s not hard for me. I find it easy. Bravery isn’t easy. Posting it was hard, I will concede. I still don’t know if I regret it. Being so open. Displaying myself to the world (well, Facebook). I think I do regret it. Hopefully more good will come from it than bad.

Last night. I sat there alone. I’m not at home. I’m staying with my in laws. We’ve found its better that I’m around people than on my own (more on that another time). I’m staying in my brother-in-law’s bedroom, he’s at uni. Anyway, I’m sat there alone. I’m freaking out about what I’ve done. Everybody knows. Are they gonna treat me differently? Are they gonna look at me funny? Maybe I should just fuck Facebook off. I can’t decide. I need a release. Maybe I should cut my arms? Sometimes it helps. No. Not again. Turn the lights off. That way you can’t see anything you can use. Fuck it, just scratch. Sometimes it helps. I scratch and scratch and scratch. I message Bertie (my sister-in-law). She’s very good in these situations. No point calling Frankie, she’s 200 miles away. She’ll just worry. Don’t worry her. Where’s Bertie? Has she got my message? Is she coming? Scratch some more. Harder. That will work. My phones ringing, it’s Bertie. She asks if she should come up and check on me. I say yes. Shall I delete Facebook? Make it all go away?

Bertie says stop. She reasons with me. Rational me says, what have you done? Irrational me says WHAT HAVE YOU FUCKING DONE?! THAT WAS FUCKING STUPID. We converse. Bertie, rational me and irrational me. After a while I calm. I’m still not sure I’m happy about what I’ve done. I’ve taken my meds. They don’t seem to be working yet, still coming off the old ones. At least I’m calm now. And that was nothing compared to what’s happened in the past.

Today. Today. Today. I’m in the car. Gotta go to the big Sainsbury’s, get dog food. Lyla has become fussy, she needs two foods mixed together now. We’ve run out of one. I’ll go get it. Stick some tunes on. The sun is shining. 2Pac – So Many Tears. Well that’s brought me down. Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t go through with this. Should I park the car? Find somewhere to hang myself? What would I use? Fuck knows. Oh my god. This is all too much. Next tune. J. Cole – Breakdown. Why the two saddest hip hop tunes in a row? Where are the bitches? The guns? The money? Fuck fuck fuck. I’m crying. Despairing. I need to pull over. I’m stuck in roadworks, nowhere to go. Seriously. I am full on crying, sobbing in the car. Where did that come from? I can’t handle this. I really really can’t do it. Sack it all off.

No. Call Frankie. She can help. I call, she answers. She loves me. She’s gonna see me tonight. Things will be ok. I’m not sure. I need to park. She says let the tears out. I need to. I can’t though. I’ve stopped now. Holding them back. I’m sat in the car for fucks sake. Can’t have everybody seeing me ball my eyes out. I’m going into the nearest car park. I’ll call her later, gonna lose signal. I love her. Not too keen on myself though. I park.

I wander around Chester. So many pairs of trainers I want. I fucking love trainers. Nothing like a new pair of trainers fresh out the box. I’m gonna get Nandos. I’m hungry. Food normally helps. Have to be careful though, my meds increase appetite and I’ve already gained a load of weight. The nice man greets me as I come in. He asks if I want to sit near the front door, you can’t get mobile signal anywhere else. That’s thoughtful. He’s considered that I’m on my own. I’m probably gonna want signal on my phone to occupy myself whilst I wait for my food. I like that. Very considerate. Nice man.

I sit down. I take out my phone. I start to write.

Today. Today. Today…

Today. Today. Today.

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