I Did Things. I Was Proud.

So, an… optimistic little interlude before the bulk updates come spilling. Run for your lives, before it’s too late.

I’ve not been doing too well, as I said in my last post.  We’re all quite used to it at home now; my parents have all but adopted cajoling me into doing basic self-caring tasks as part of their own everyday routine. And today was no different in that respect, just amplified, because I had an additional task.  An Everest of concentration.  I had to return something to uni.

See, that involves getting up – early – and washing and eating and dressing and breathing – on purpose – and, evil of evils, commuting during morning rush hour, preferably without dying in the process.  And, given that I’m me and all, it also involves walking home from the train station, uphill, for 40 minutes, because it’s too much of a panic-inducing effort on top of everything else to get a bus.

I did it.  Sort of.

Sleep eludes me, and has been doing so for months; last night was no different.  I lay awake, drenched in a cold sweat, for hours before I needed to get up, because it was that night – of all nights – that my brain decided I wasn’t allowed to power down when there were Issues to think-and-panic-but-ultimately-come-to-no-conclusions-whatsoever about.

Still, I got up, swallowed something resembling food at points, did my required splashings and brushings (and, a relatively new but welcome addition, shavings) and the like, and got to the train station without collapsing out of exhaustion.

Quite an achievement, I’m pathetically pleased to announce.

I got stuck trying to pass someone on the platform.  Apparently my voice is not loud enough to politely get people to move the hell out of the way, so I come out looking like a rude and moody (can’t really argue with that one though) twit – not to mention the “must be on drugs or hallucinating or something” part, which admittedly might have been more justifiable than “not a good day today” from my behaviour at the time.

I got into uni, still without collapsing, still proud – although it was slow, plodding and resentful – and went to return the Thing, a mobile broadband device I was testing for a friend.

It turned out that I’d come in especially… only to forget the cable to charge the damn thing.

She tolerated my presence, or lack thereof, for three hours, bought me hot chocolate and exchanged stories with me (read: ranted maniacally and then listened while I did the same).  She got angry when I needed her to, “aww”ed in all the right places – well, to be completely accurate, she “oh shit“ed in the right places – and, more importantly, helped me with things I couldn’t face on my own.  She reassured me that she didn’t need the cable if I couldn’t face bringing it in, but I said I’d bring it in on Friday.  I might regret that, but we shall see.

And then I went to get my grades.  We only get the chemistry grades, and only letter grades – we have to wait until the end of July for the numbers – but I was disappointed.  I’m not going to be second in the year this time.  I’ve got As in everything but one unit, which was a B, and I won’t know how bad the B is, in relative terms, for a couple of months.

Call it perfectionism (which it is), but it feels like a blemish.  Although I know that’s only because I’ve been hassling them for help and telling them I’m struggling – with the badly-organised piling-on of work, not the difficulty level – all year long.  Anyway.  That’s a side note.

Then I went home.  Trust me to have so many issues that teleportation would be the only acceptable option.  Sadly, that’s not, erm, possible (yet…?) so an uphill walk was the lesser of All Evils.

Believe me, walking uphill on Depressive Lead Legs and zero sleep is no mean feat.  And another thing I’ve noticed is how dangerous everything becomes when you’re in, erm, certain states of mind; it’s kind of hard to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, or breathing, or whatever when you’re so busy envisioning how you could kill yourself with a cardboard coaster.  (Side note: the other thing I’ve noticed is how my imagination actually peaks in productivity during times like this; doesn’t say much for my personality, does it?)

And then I get home.  I manage to fail to unlock and open my front door the first time around, and my legs give way almost as soon as I succeed in my door-opening endeavours.

My mum phones from work to check I’ve got home without throwing myself in front of a car or something (I had to use my last energy reserves trying to stay on the damn pavement/platforms today; rarely do I feel like becoming housebound by choice is such a good idea), and thanks to the wonders of caller ID (a service which we’ve only recently added), I answer.  She can’t hear me, because my voice doesn’t work beyond a sort of Morse code of shaped breaths.  She suggests I lie down for a while, because being miserable for no good reason is such an exhausting task, and I resolve to ignore it.

And then I spend the rest of the day as still as possible (typing, of course, doesn’t count), albeit sitting up, just to be difficult.

This is probably the most productive thing I’ve done all day.  And with that happy revelation, I’ll try and sleep now.  Until things beyond my control (naturally) actively change, though, I’m not holding out much hope.

Wow, I’m a right little optimist today, aren’t I?

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About JC

I'm a no-longer-nameless trans asexual autistic, chemistry undergraduate at a London university, pronoun enthusiast, amateur photographer and budding proofreader. Son of Optimus. Join me and be amazed. Or just join me. The sense of awe and wonder is optional.
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2 Responses to I Did Things. I Was Proud.

  1. Nice diary entry – the hill was a triumph and you should be proud. I hope you get some well deserved sleep and that Friday goes OK.

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