Don’t keep telling me…

 Saturday afternoon, a great time watching my new club, well started watching them in August, Staveley MWFC. A greeting from Pat the manager, a hello from Terry the chairman, and a coffee bought for me by my mate. All was good.

Then a switch flicked that evening. I shut down. I cancelled my plans for my birthday, I deleted a load of apps that keep me social, I just didn’t want to associate with the outside world. 

What caused it? Fuck knows. I suspect a simple misunderstanding was all it took for the brain to tip over the edge. I often say it’s like juggling for me. I can handle 3 things at once, but throw an extra thing in, no matter how small, and it all comes crashing down. 

Just because I’m writing this doesn’t mean everything is good again. It’s not. I don’t want to talk to anybody. It agitates me. Just leave me alone. In the words of Wage War, “don’t keep on telling me that I’m gonna pull through, coz you don’t know low like I do.” I will get there but I want to do it myself. Perhaps that’s not a healthy way, and goes against everything I tell people, but equally, the reason I write these things is so people can see it’s not rosey, and what a text book says isn’t always conducive to real life.

In the meantime I’ll do what I’ve gotta do, but that won’t include fitting in to social norms, and may even involve cancelling plans whilst I get my shit together.

Look after each other. Peace 💚

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