Daily Journal – August 2

Daily Journal - September 2



Daily Journal - September 2


Today is Piers’ birthday but I let him down.

I am deeply traumatised today. I am always traumatised the day after hosting a social thing. Whether it’s tea for one or a party for 30, I always wake up the next day hating myself and wanting to die of shame or horror or mortification.

I was traumatised for a week after the carpet cleaning man came and I made coffee for the first time ever. He asked for seconds but I couldn’t help thinking it was probably horrible because I had to give him instant coffee, not knowing how to use the coffee maker and it was likely too strong or too weak.

I know my brain is broken. It doesn’t matter if people said they had an amazing time or the food is great and, on some level, I can see that things went well. My brain won’t believe it. How can you believe in words when you know that nobody would say anything rude or hurtful?

Instead, my brain tells me its own truth. It replays moments in minute detail, showing me what went wrong and where I made a wrong choice, and when I said something stupid, and what should have happened here or there, and how I should not have been born.

Normally, I would have continued lying in bed in misery but today is Piers’ birthday so I made the colossal effort to get up. But I couldn’t even do my morning face routine properly. I put eye cream on twice then face cream on twice, only realising too late.

When I got downstairs Piers was cleaning up the party mess. The horror overwhelmed me. The mess and leftover food to be eaten were living recaps of my trauma. I tried so hard to keep it together. I couldn’t ruin Piers’ birthday with my nonsense. But it was like I was paralysed.

I ended up spending the whole day crying and reading and sleeping.

I craved sugar so badly. At home, there are cakes, cookies, chocolates, sweets, ice cream, coca cola, all the sugary things I love. It would have been so easy to give in. I’d already gone for more than two months without sweets so could I not just have a break for one day?

I must have magically dredged up some ancient, forgotten reserve of willpower because I survived the day without giving in to temptation.

Maybe it’s the damned logical brain. “You’ll get a sugar rush and then crash and feel much worse. Also it’s a slippery slope you don’t want to go down.” It’s the same logical brain that tells me, “The party was a disaster and everyone is laughing at you. Let me present the evidence…”

As much as I want to die, I know this trauma will fade to manageable proportions eventually. I will still find it hard to forgive myself and the world, but I must not give up. I will keep going, day by day by day.


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Daily Journal – August 30

Daily Journal - August 30




I am stressed out of my head. This week, my to-do list has been growing faster than I can clear it. Only one day left till September and I haven’t created my new tracking and planning spreads. I have 16 pages to make before the 1st but I won’t have time to even start till the 3rd, at the earliest.

I have been so, so fatigued all this week and suffering from sleeplessness. Also feeling sad that I haven’t had time all month to spend on my interests. I hate being an adult.

Life is too frustrating.

But I must stop this line of thinking now. I can feel the darker thoughts trying to take over. Go away, dark thoughts.


I’m grateful that Piers allows me to have all my online shopping sent to his office because I hate answering the door. Or the phone.

Pygmy kids

Recently, we thought about buying pygmy goats as pets because a neighbour’s goats had kids. But how can I take care of pets when I don’t even have time to take care of myself?


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Daily Journal – August 24

It’s a double-page daily today because I went through a mighty struggle, resulting in having a bit more to say than usual.

Daily Journal - August 25


Stressed and anxious. Despair. Woke up prematurely again, feeling completely unrested, unable to fall back asleep. Fitbit reported only 5 minutes of deep sleep in a 6-hour sleep period. Even though I’ve had less than ideal sleep for years, this makes me feel so defeated.

I was so fatigued I couldn’t even get excited about journalling. Without this joy to sustain me, life is bleak and colourless, void of all reason. Hello depression.

Past trauma, self hatred, dissatisfaction with the world, people, situations.

Everything crowds in all at once, as if competing against one another, all clamouring for attention.

I am overcome. My body is weighed down by fatigue, my mind and soul weighed down by anxiety and depression.

So many times in my life, I let it take me. It’s so hard to fight when your body won’t sleep. My energy and strength and willpower don’t get replenished and I’m dipping into reserves I don’t have anymore.

But, today, I fought.

I fought because I started this fight for the nth time and this time I have a journal to complete and streaks to maintain and I’m damned if I don’t last at least the month. Because if I don’t fight it, I go back to drowning in video games and self-loathing, day after day after day.


Today’s Wins

  • Did physio, yoga and meditation. Today’s meditation graph is like a captured butterfly desperately trying to break its bonds and fly away.
  • Did some online shopping for groceries and essentials. But that was relatively easy.
  • Did my daily walk, although was cut short at 40 minutes due to hypoglycaemia.
  • Did not have ice cream! I craved it so badly I very nearly gave in. I’m actually very surprised I didn’t. But I didn’t want to ruin my dairy and sugar free streak and somehow I found the strength. A small win, a big step!


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For the memories


Exciting times! I have decided to stop being depressed.

But I was being flippant. I don’t decide depression; it decides me. Recently, after months and months of hounding me, it decided to take a break. One day, depression just up and scarpered off on a holiday or something, I don’t know. I hope it gets lost, or kidnapped, or dies of old age, or something, and never comes back.

Anyway, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, which is not new. I’ve been thinking too much since I was old enough to, and it’s not a good thing because I can’t ever decide on anything when I can make equally convincing arguments for all sides. This explains why I’ve had so many failed restarts in blogging in the last few years — I keep changing my mind. Also explains why I’m thirty-two kinds of strange.

But never mind all that. What’s significant is that the latest think dictated I must blog again because I’m losing memories. The last few years of my life amount to a series of blank pages because I’d failed to document all the highlights, like I’d done between 2003 and 2013-ish. As a matter of fact, my life before blogging is a lot of blank pages, as well.

That makes me sad. I need to save more memories. We all do!

So, I am now determined to start documenting again, pretending my life is really cool and everything, in millennial fashion, when, in reality, all I do is stay home and obsess over my sad obsessions. But 100-year-old me won’t remember that when I look back on my blogs with nostalgic fondness. All I’ll see and remember is that I was pretty cool. And that’s pretty cool.

In other news, I have a new obsession. It’s desk-bound and rather time-consuming so, I actually don’t know I will have any time left to get up to cool stuff, much less blog about them. But I can blog about my obsession, can’t I? Ooh. Aren’t you so very excited to read all about it?

She said self-deprecatingly.

Let me put it into words

There is a certain stuckness in me.

I keep saying I will blog. Then I sit at my computer and start playing Cafe World. I play some songs on YouTube. I plurk a bit.

Every few minutes, I will feel a sensation at the edge of my mind. I try to ignore it, shut it out, but it occasionally breaks through the barrier and screams, “BLOG!”

I freeze.

And freeze.

For minutes. Maybe hours. Time becomes meaningless, anyway.

Then I blink and go back to Cafe World, Youtube, Plurk.

It seems my mind refuses to process anything real.

Because real is painful.

There are many little delights in life, sure. Like butter on hot toast. Or a baby’s smile. Whatever you’re into. But there are even more horrors and they crowd out the little delights. The horrors are the ones that shamelessly demand attention and, in trying to combat them, you become dysfunctional for a time.

Sometimes, for a long time.

I wish I could say what bothers me, but I can’t find a starting point.

The horrors are the things in life that cause you pain, make you sad, render you defenceless.

When you allow one horror to surface in your mind, it opens a portal through which all the other million horrors pour through unrelentingly. They kind of crowd your brain out so you see nothing but blackness. It is so overwhelming that you can’t even begin to describe what’s happening in your mind.

You can only freeze and wait.

After some time, the horrors get bored and they go home. But not all of them. Some of them are overstayers. They chip at your little delights all day (as if you had any left in the first place) and make diabolical noises, just to piss you off a bit (as if you needed any more pissing off).

But these are the inconsequential horrors, minor annoyances you have to learn to put up with. The big ones have gone home temporarily but you know they’ll come back again for a visit with no warning. And soon.

All your life, you’re fighting to banish the little ones and seal the portal against the big ones. You know that nothing short of an apocalypse can ever destroy them for good. But there is nothing else you can do in the meantime. Only fight.

It’s when you’re fighting that you develop a certain stuckness. Perhaps a blankness. Because you can’t really multi-task that good and you have to channel all your energies into fighting or blocking out. In either case, you become dysfunctional.

Ergo, stuckness.