I had a lovely time on holiday and the sun on my back and time with the kids was good, but it was four on us in an small space for nearly two weeks and a heck of a lot of driving.
I had some real blues, I was low and moody at times. I had an evening where I just thought ‘everything would be better without me’.
I guess I overreacted but I had that gnaw going at me, I’m not good enough, I can’t do this, wishing I was better, different, able, not me.
It’s extreme thinking and black thinking and something that I probably need to talk to ‘someone’ about, but right now I don’t want anyone and don’t want how I feel processes through someone else’s agenda.
I haven’t picked up seeing ‘friends’, I’ve been promted to do so but I don’t feel like it and don’t want to deal with drinking and being slagged off by people.
It’s lonely and horrible when I’m on my own and I found for a few weeks before going on holiday that I was empty and just went to bed early. Even the ding dong of banter on Twitter wasn’t working. I guess each new morning was easier to cope with after a decent or crash out sleep.
I don’t see much value in myself right now, I don’t think I get much right and I know some of that is my fault, some of it comes from having a condition.
I’m sick of everything working back to aspergers but the reality is that it does. I want to move beyond where I am, but there’s so much that pops up in my past. I see a string of failure, a run of disaster and mess.
I dreamed of a life. I now know I won’t have that life, I can’t really avoid that knowledge and that trail. I hate letting people down and I pretty much hate that I never managed to life a better, happier life.
I’m not sure I know what it is to be happy, I’m not sure about coping and stumbling through each and every day that’s coming.
But I must.