I've written lots and lots of half finished blog posts, or blog posts which when I then looked at them again in the light of day/minus alcohol I delete and feel relief I didn't publish. Let's try again...
Warning, this is basically an off-loading moan. Because that is what I need to do. You don't have to read it, I don't need any responses. So if you are feeling down, step away now.
Things are slipping. I was expecting some slip, post-degree, but it is hard now it is here. You only have to look at my posts from October/November last year to see this isn't exactly a new thing (that was the beginning of the few month gap when I was between my second year and my final year).
I had a huge list of plans for now. I'm doing a music diploma, which is analysis/essay based, and I've got the first assignments in and done and sorted. I'm planning to talk to someone tomorrow about choosing a programme for an accompanying qualification I want to do. I'm searching for the sonata to fall in love with too, for the performing qualification I want to do. I'm playing piano for maybe two hours a day, before my body gives in and I can't play any more.
It has all gone grey though. I can't work out whether it is all a combination of post-degree slump and Autumn greyness, or whether I have sunk back into depression. I don't *think* it is depression-type depressing stuff yet, but it *is* depressing.
Organising my musical Christmas. I spent hours composing a Christmas piece for the concert band I'm MD of, have sorted the Carol Service for the choir I lead. I've done most stuff I need to sort now.
It all feels futile though. I'll still be here at Christmas, I'll not top myself. Not only because I can't be bothered (yes, it is at that stage...) but also because I don't think I want to. So the fact I'm preparing for a manically busy time so it isn't too stressful shouldn't feel futile.
Things started to wobble before the exams. But I threw myself into hours and hours of revision, alongside my planned "relaxation" time. So I was busy enough to keep going. Now though, there isn't quite enough to keep going without thinking. Hence the absence of morning as I was asleep and the fact it is 3pm and I'm writing a blog post to distract myself.
Then tonight I'll go to a recital, than dash off to a rehearsal. Tomorrow I'll feel empty, but I have something on early-ish morning, some rehearsal after lunch, teaching and then another rehearsal. I'll stay all happy outwardly because I have to. Smile!
I'm realising I'm not as fixed as I'd let on. Easy to gloss over the cracks, isn't it? If I was to move out tomorrow, I'd be stuck. I simply don't have the ability to live alone yet. And, err, I want to live alone, and actually live in a city I haven't yet decided on, next September.
I don't want to admit defeat now, that's not my style. But I would live on sandwiches because the stress of boiling pasta or vegs in a place on my own is too much. That's if I could get in food, which would be debatable. I can cook, fairly competently/interestingly, if someone is there to help if a pan boils over, or to just be there in case something goes wrong. Otherwise I'll end up hiding under the sink and the kitchen will be on fire.
I can't ask for a ticket on a bus. Or a ticket at a train station. Or tell the hospital receptionist my name when I'm going for a physical health appointment.
Trying to talk to strangers, like the podiatrist who was concerned about my scars = knee surgery (Note to self: shouldn't have injured yourself in such a way that 3 health care professionals have now assumed knee surgery...) is just hard work. But walking like I do now is hard work, so I had to go to the appointment.
Stupid stupid thing is I can stand in front of 50 musicians and can talk and conduct them no problem. I want to become an academic, a lecturer, who quite feasibly will stand in front of 100 first years and lecture them. I can sit in front of audiences of 300 without any more than a twinge of urgh about the size of my stomach and perform.
I can see myself reaching my academic and musical goals, because I'm a stubborn so-and-so who wants to get there, so I will.
I fear I'll be an academic unable to get on a bus. Through fear of talking to the bus driver. Unable to food shop if it requires talking to people.
The professional Hannah is such a fake front, and unless I am in that environment I can't employ the calm professional exterior. I'll reach my professional goals because I am so bloody minded I'll get there if it kills me, but fail at the life stuff. If it is detached from life, which my maths is, then I can do it. My music is detached, my teaching is, and as soon as you add in the life stuff - the getting around, eating, communicating with others day-to-day - I fall to pieces.
I can travel across London on my own, FFS. By not talking to anyone (except myself...) and planning journeys in great detail first. By hitting myself and talking to myself when it gets too much. Which I count as an OK way of coping if I get from A to B without damaging anything or anyone else.
I'm full of semi-anger at my incompetence. I thought I had come far enough, now I can travel around London just about, or work, or complete my degree, or walk down the road on my own. Just hard realising how far I have to go before I'm where I'd like to be. Maybe I just need to have a trusty sidekick. To steer me in the right direction when I've gone wrong.
I know that I've come a hugely long way from where I was. But the fairly-fine-and-reasonably-dandy view of my life has worn off, and I'm stuck realising how far I need to go. I'm nowhere near there now. Anyone got a magic wand spare?
Sorry, self-pitying arrrrrgggh greyness. Given I have no-one to splurge on, as I've become too "OK" to be supported by mental health things and so forth, I need to do it somewhere. Otherwise something is bound to go mightily wrong and that'd scupper everything. Muttermuttersighsigh. Fecking "living" crap.