I’ve been off the blog for a while, between working more hours than I really should do, doing crafts and trying to keep a relationship going….and I’m just making excuses. I’m terrible at things like this, always have been. Over the years I have tried to write diaries, journals whatever you want to call them and have never gone for more than a month or so without failing at it. I remember as a child I would love the idea of them and write everything down for all of a few days then slowly find myself tailing off until the lovely little book and it’s lock remained untouched until I went back to read what I had written and feel terrible about it.
I was determined that this would be different, that it would be a place for me to vent frustrations, anger etc but instead I just find myself becoming paranoid about the whole thing. I can’t write about my work due to the nature of it and it’s hard to write about the way my mind works as the idea of people judging me over it terrifies me. I’m tired, tired of hating myself and the way my mind works, of being scared of the world around me.
Paranoia is a bitchy toad, it squats in my mind taking hold of my entire way of thinking. The slightest mistake on my part and the toad starts croaking at me, telling me how useless I am and coming up with the worst possible scenario which with a vivid imagination can be quite extravagantly horrifying. Just writing this is making my chest tighten, will I dare post it? Will anyone read it? Will they think I’m a whinging idiot who shouldn’t bother putting her thoughts out into the ether for others to see? Could someone from work see this, figure out it’s me and decide I’m too crazy to work there any more? My brain is diseased.
I have tried to think positively, to tell myself I’m not a failure but the toad is winning. I wish I could kill it off like the slugs in my garden, though I’m losing against them as well as they eat there way through my plants.