Emotionally Broke

“I don’t want to talk about it, but I have nowhere to live.” I say as my mum pokes her head around my bedroom door (which is still amazing because wow I have a room and she finally isn’t so annoyed at me!). Pretty much my response to the whole thing at the moment. Future flatmate finally had the balls to officially bail, after I had to ask again, which was not cool. I really don’t mind her reasons or her decision (I understand that my health is hard to handle), but the way I’ve been informed of that decision and the way she has handled it is utterly crappy. I’m not going to say any more, it hurts like a bitch and I will end up throwing my laptop at the wall. Looks like I’m probably going to have to bail on my next year of uni now, unless by some miracle I can persuade someone else to bail on their accommodation agreement and let me live with them. Anyway, I said no more. So… No more.

It was amazing to wake up this morning on a bed. Actually on a bed, fully stretched out (I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in it for some reason. Self esteem is weird like that). The room was actually recognisable as a room and not a rubbish tip. I was so happy. It felt so good. I crawled onto the floor and hugged my dog and he was equally happy to finally be able to walk into the room and even lay on the floor! I finally didn’t feel numb. Well, I did, but not that heavy numbness, a sort of ok numbness, one from which you can start to build good things… I was… Content, I guess.

I have been awake for a total of about three hours today. My body is having a bad day, and I will allow it that, because it has been pretty awesome since it got out of hospital. Speaking of which, I spent about half an hour drafting an email to send to the specialist nurse who… Let’s not even go there because I can’t deal with that either (are you sensing a pattern?). I messaged future flatmate upon completion of my email draft, asking for her decision on “the thing” (sharing a flat), which I was told I would have by the end of the weekend… About a week and a bit ago (and totally shouldn’t have had to ask for, especially after having to ask and ask before the issue was even declared in the first place). I kind of expected the answer I got “Not gonna do the thing.” but I’m seriously… Nope, can’t even. Will actually throw laptop.

I am now in the process of messaging most people I know asking for accommodation, and people who offered to let me live with them before are now all “Sorry I’ve sorted everything out. I thought you were sharing with (future flatmate)?” I explain to each one of them that I understand the reasons, and I’m not annoyed about that, but that I don’t appreciate the short notice or the having to ask before I was told. My favourite reply was simply this: “Dick move.” I like that, because I have come to the conclusion from the messages I’ve had to send today that humanity is one great big dick move. Future flatmate is quite frankly an awesome human being and I don’t blame her for her decision at all, in fact in another life maybe I would make the same call. We’ve had too many laughs and good times to list or mention or even remember. It’s an honour to know her and an even bigger honour to have called her my friend. And a true privilege also. I’m not angry at her at all, just this situation. That’s different, that isn’t her, that’s just life (ok no I’m a tiny bit annoyed but it will pass).

I guess people don’t want to say stuff when they know you are unwell, but it is the normal things that always matter to me more because it is the normal things that I can control. I guess it was a lose-lose situation. I don’t think there was any understanding about how significant the outcome of that decision would be to my life, or how important it was for me to know it so I could do something about it. I don’t have a housing contract to fall back on next year, there is no accommodation I can simply renew and I can’t live by myself because hello I’m broken. This decision was going to have a significant impact on my future and I don’t think that was really acknowledged. The numbness left. The anger settled back in again, mildly, fleetingly appearing every now any again. My eyes wanted to cry, my heart started to sink. But I didn’t break. I was already beaten. I was already determined not to sink and this doesn’t mean that that decision has not just rocked my world and probably put an end to my university career. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to cry, that my last shred of hope just died, that it is all gone. It just means I don’t… I don’t even know.

I want to swear and I don’t swear. I want to punch and kick and shout. So I blogged. I’m hurting. This hurt me. I don’t care. It’s all gone today. And I can’t stop to break down because I need to fix it. I need to fix it all. I need to fix the hey you might die situation and the nurse situation and try and find a place to live and I can’t just stop and lay down to lick my wounds, I must run on, bleeding. The only way I can stop these things taking the final shards powder (I am too broken to be in shards) of the parts that are left of me, is to fight even if that fighting is futile, and to lose myself in denial even if that may be dangerous, and to hope even though there is nothing to hold.

For those of you that have known me for a few years, you know how this ends. You know what I do when my health screws up other areas of my life. You know what I do when other people react to my health in the ways I always fear people will. You know I get stubborn and scared and sick and tired of my health wrecking stuff, and as a result ignore it and run myself into the ground, continuing when I shouldn’t even be able to stand, just to be like you guys, just so you don’t see me as the pathetic weakling who might die and is scary to be around and that some of you quite rightly don’t want to share a flat with. You know I need people and you know right now I won’t answer your messages or pick up your calls because I am pushing everyone out. You watched me do this in sixth form. You called ambulances for me when it all fell through and I was unconscious in the common room all those times. You are still here now, even if we are distant. I know you are there, because I have 4 friends from sixth form left, and each one of you has messaged me at some point recently.

On the plus side, my mum still hasn’t shouted at me yet today (she’s only just got in, but I usually have given her reason to need to vent frustration at me and my health by now) so that’s awesome.

I will cling to the positives because I am so, so grateful for them today and they mean so, so much to me.

Who am I kidding. I am clinging to those positives for dear life and appreciating them as much as they should be appreciated. But this is not ok.

And yet, it has to be, because I can’t afford for it to be anything but.

I have spent all the emotion I have. My feelings have burned me to the ground.



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