25th February – Saturday
Haven’t written an journal entry for a while. Keep forgetting. That’s not true. Haven’t written a journal entry at all. (Promised no more lying to myself last night in the middle of a tiny panic attack). Still feels like I’m making excuses and that makes me feel tight chested and anxious, and that’s crazy cause I’m me so why am I bothering making excuses to myself?
I remember I haven’t written and then I feel guilty and then I think, I’ll do it later. And then it’s later and I can’t be bothered. And then another day goes by and the same thing happens, (because nothing ever happens that’s worth writing about) and the longer it goes on the less important it feels. Never kept a journal, even when I was a kid. What’s the point now really?
But I saw a quote on Pinterest today and I can’t get it out of my head.
‘Whatever you allow is what will continue.’
Had a link to a Zen website under it. I clicked on the link What is Zen? but couldn’t concentrate on the words, like my brain was stopping me making sense of it or something so I still don’t know anything about it.
Made me think though. The whole point of starting this journal was so I’ll have some motivation to do something proactive about my life. So there’ll be evidence of progress. God, is it any wonder I’m rubbish at this. Nothing’s going to change is it? If this continues I mean. If I don’t do anything. God.
Bought myself a beautiful leather journal now so I’m damn well going to fill it up.
Journal Entry – Saturday 25th February
Got up late today. Really tired. Bit drunk last night. Went to sleep okay but woke up in the night with drunk mouth. Went to loo for a drink and then couldn’t get back to sleep for ages. Brain wouldn’t shut up. Looping about work, money, usual stuff.
Didn’t do much this morning. Facebook, bit of Pinterest, watched telly.
Tuna salad for lunch. With crisps. Sort of healthy.
(Writing this feels like the mad woman on the bus who’s always talking to herself.)
Watched more TV. Midsummer Murders but it was one of the rubbish episodes with only one murder in it.
Keep thinking about quote I read. What’s wrong with me?
Am I depressed? Feel rubbish all the time. Tired. Bored. Lonely. Don’t know what I’d be like without the dog. Keep crying for no reason. Probably drink too much. Out again tonight though. Won’t have as much as last night, can’t afford it. This is a bloody nightmare.
Might go see the doctor. Don’t know if I want anti-depressants again though. Makes me feel sick just thinking about it.
Why is this happening to me?
What did I ever do wrong to end up in this state?
Can’t think of anything else to write now.