So, I’m trying to work my way towards a paid job. It’s something I can do and have plenty of past experience in, and hopefully will give me some routine and a chance to balance myself. Because after only one day of routine, I’m feeling much more grounded. Which is good, as I spent all of Monday on a manic high.
Monday also happened to be the day my niece was finally born – only eleven days after she was due, girl was far too comfortable in there. The news of her arrival came on the evening, when I’d spent the whole day freaking out about whether or not I was going to be gaming with my friends. Seriously, I spent all day messaging our group chat. ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Who’s coming out tonight?’ ‘Is it happening tonight?’ ‘Can someone ask (X) if tonight’s happening?‘ Then I’d turn to Husband and jabber on about it, even though he said the evening might not go to plan only for me to turn around and completely go over what he had just said. I was adamant that these plans (although, they weren’t actual plans) were going ahead.
I’ve never been one to stress over plans. Usually I’ll be okay if something goes head, and okay if it doesn’t. If we’re late then we’re late, people can wait or change plans, all good stuff. But Husband said that I was just so wound up about something so insignificant and it was exhausting for him to keep up. On Sunday we went to the cinema to see Suicide Squad (it was alright, lot of fun, very daft) and that was entirely down to me saying “I want to go see Suicide Squad today.” I never do shit like that, ever. So basically for two days straight, Husband was having to deal with his manic wife.
And then I get the text that Little Miss had been born, which sent me on an even bigger high. I’m pretty sure I kept calm when we got to the hospital, I did a lot of talking but Rox was still doped up from her Caesarean so I don’t think either of us seemed strange to each other. I got to hold barely six-hours-old Little Miss, who cried a little bit then settled on auntie Claire’s chest. She felt like a china doll, a bundle of light and loveliness in my arms. I fell in love, truly. When we left, BPD hit me in the chest. You love her, so you’re bound to lose her. Or, you’ll let her down like you do everyone else. I went to bed with a heavy heart, desperate for that horrible shrill thought set to do one.
It was only on Tuesday when I realised that I’d been acting out of the ordinary the day before. It’s always the way, I should be used to it by now. We saw Little Miss along with her mommy and daddy, and I tried to push those thoughts to the back of my mind while she trolled her parents – is she hungry? Or is she just doing an impression of a goldfish?
I’m trying to write more. And for me. I’m working on the handwritten draft of my BPD memoir, as well as two fiction novels. I have a list of articles that I should write, but I’m putting them off until I have the energy. Perhaps with a proper job, I’ll build up enough energy to take up freelance jobs again.
I hope I get this job. I have a three year gap in my employment due to mental illness, plus a lack of reference from my last job due to: a) the place not physically existing anymore, b) not having contact with my old managers, and c) one of said managers sexually harassing me and bullying me out of the job. Also, despite the job before that at Blockbuster being my longest time of employment at nearly three years, the manager there hates my guts. Which is funny, because she’s indirectly responsible for the sexual harassment I got in the next job I had.She is probably unaware of that, but fuck her anyway. I tried my best at that job and it was never good enough for her.
People say that normal is boring. Yet it’s all I’ve craved my whole life.