[melodramatic rubbish ramblings] (you have been warned)
You know when you say "y'know when" then backtrack because probably no-one else experiences the same? Well... that.
Today, life feels futile. Been a busy day, an hour at church, about 2 hours at the piano, 2 hours of band, and 2 hours of orchestra. Nothing went badly, nothing provoked this response, I've just got to the end of the day feeling rubbish.
My chest feels like I have a heavy weight (or my cat, I suppose) on it. Serious crushing going on, to the point my breathing feels laboured. Once, a few years back, I told Mum the effort to carry on breathing was too much, she remarked if I stopped thinking about it I'd just do it. Right now, when I stop thinking about it, what feels like tens of seconds go by without me breathing again.
I've drunk too much. I've not built in a new "healed arms aim day" (last one was Sunday) so am struggling with that. I've got a lack of pizzazz, and I'm someone who thrives on my presence when I'm supposed to be in control of a situation.
The BPD stuff, however much stuff might be behind its current state, is slightly concerning me. I've never being given the BPD label, I've always been too psychotic in mental health professionals' eyes to give me that label. However, I've been presumed (as I perceive it) to have the BPD label over the last few weeks. Every second email in my online-persona email account is about BPD. I've never been given that label, thankfully. And I think some person seems to have been given an awful lot of airtime recently. I'm not entirely criticising, but I'm not comfortable aiming a lot of powerful negative emotions and words in the direction of one person (however "wrong" they may be).
Back to the crushing weight on my chest. Right now, all I can manage is a sigh. I couldn't sing an aria that I once did for an audition when technically "severely depressed" tonight, as this feeling my chest would mean an obvious difference for the worse in my voice. Tomorrow evening, I've got to take a choir practice. Sit at an organ and direct a choir. Tomorrow afternoon I've got to teach maths. Sit at a desk and explain elementary concepts to those who believe they can't do it. I doubt I'll be very good at either if my mood now is anything to go by.
My smile feels fake. I have huge dark bags under my eyes, I'm not getting enough sleep. I want to curl up into a ball and have an off day. I can't though. An off day would signify so much more than a day spent in bed. For one thing, I'd have to cancel something as most days for the next two months are already not completely free. I can't do it. I need an off day... well, more I *want* an off day.
Chest weight is horrible. It really is. I think it is time to put on thoroughly emotive music (I was thinking the piece I listened to for 3 days non-stop which made my family really angry but kept me going) and lie in a darkened room. Sleep. Wake up, sort out this assignment. Paint on a smile, go to work. All the while hoping this crushing "urgh" on my chest isn't going to appear during the day. Otherwise I'm going to be a rubbish person in the roles I'm in.
I want to be more clear than it all currently feels. I'm telling people when they ask how my summer has been that I've worked hard, and I'll be taking my exams in 5 weeks, I'm well. Right now though, it feels a bit like this tree in the forest at the end of my road:
The trunk was cut off. Then all those little branches grew. The stability in those little branches is a bit questionable. Like mine, I suppose.