(More mental health stuff)
This entry was supposed to be happy verging on triumphant all about how I had cleaned the toilet for the first time since Dad died. (Yes I have not cleaned the toilet in a little over three years). I would like to point out for hygiene reasons that I do live with The Jellicle who has in fact stepped up to do the cleaning and practical tasks that have just dropped from my grasp. I would also like to point out that I mean clean properly as opposed to shove some bleach in there and wiggle the toilet brush round.
When it comes to cleaning I’ve always taken a higher level of satisfaction from cleaning the bathroom than from anywhere else with the possible very specific exception of a stainless steel kitchen sink.
Well I’ve been on vitamin D since possibly January and in therapy too. Last week was the first time since November that I managed to shower everyday and do my full skincare routine too. I’ve been managing regular yoga and today I managed to do something physical and practical and very very real. The fact that I haven’t managed this since grief hit me heavy at the start of the pandemic hadn’t really filtered through to me before today.
Today is supposed to be me writing about a triumph. And then we got to the last shift of the day and I’m listening to the guy talking about trains and Thomas and his usual stuff, we step out of the door heading to the supermarket and the world does not look real. Parts of it look hyper-real. I do not feel real. I’m walking to the car with the guy I’m supposed to be supporting and I’m desperately trying to get my feet on the ground.
This has happened before, I was working with him and I felt so completely out of reality – whilst fucking driving no less that the only point of reference I had was to when I’ve been actively yoga-ing and magicking myself into an alternate state of mind. Hell that time when it happened it felt like the one point in my life that I’m pretty sure I had a premonition so I messaged people just in case. Looking back I think I’d just been so incredibly miserable that day that I’d swung myself into that weird state of mind. Right out into the wyrd.
Today though, today I’ve been really grounded, solid, I cleaned the fucking toilet. And suddenly I’m in bizzaro hyper-real/not-real world and desperately trying to breathe to now or ground or anything. I did the whole rest of shift with my sense of where I was just – off. I don’t know why it happened, it occurs to me though that listening to that client talk in a similar unique manner was what I was doing when I saw the girl who triggered the final part of the mental break last year. That’s only really occurred to me now. I am most unhappy that this happened today, I guess I was feeling like I had evidence of genuine progress and whilst it is I’ve still got a ways to go.
I’m also sorely tempted to call in sick rather than spend my shift at that particular yard. I’m not sure it would be good for me, or perhaps I’m being avoidant and I just need to face it. Some more. Again.