Where's the way out?.....are we there yet ?

I did  not not wake up  overnight in the state of despair I am currently in, I gradually lost my footing, let my standards slip imperceptibly, in the name of tiredness, in what I thought was an attempt to recharge my batteries after a demanding time at work, and the breakdown of my relationship with J....    .

In the beginning, I moved into this lovely little flat with the intention of being happy, I had found my little cosy place to relax, without a flatmate in the way, J and I had been separated for some time already, but, we had remained the best of friends, and he helped with moving in and repairs.He endlessly shifted pieces of furniture, fixed, starightened, stripped, painted, while I went to the shops buying pretty cushioms and cute crockery. After all thatb hard work, he deserved a treat, so I cooked him a nice dinner every time he came round to help, generally, with a bottle of wine, wich means he would not be able to drive home, so he stayed at mine,day after day, we established little rituals, even long after I had settled in the flat, he would visit several times a week, and stayed the night, it was a bit like we were dating again. I began to believe we could revive the romance, but it did not happen, J did not wish our newly found relationship to developp anyb further, soon enough,there were tensions, misunderstanding, tears, and making up, sleepless nights waiting for the phone to ring.

My new flat kept me busy, I loved playing house for a while, but some cracks were beginning to appear, wardrobes were already splilling their contents onto the floor, in the form of a heap of bright garish colours, made of clothes accumulated over many years, Books, CDs, cosmetics, for wichI Bought tacky looking containers in a bid to contain the flow, streamline and organize, as they say in decoration magazines. The sensible thing to do would have bee to get rid of plenty, let go of the old, make space for the new, start afresh,but I was already a hoarder back then, in my young days, it had been an endearing trait, a charming, if a little bit eccentric habbit. I had been a magpie, searching bootfairs for wintage treasures, the arts and crafts enthusiast, ready to tackle any recycling project, the fashion victim who never had too many shoes or coats.As years went by, the energy and enthusiasm wore off, but the collecting habbit remained, and gradually turned ugly, and stale, yellowing magazine cuts were stashed away in shoe boxes, along with moth eaten unfinished knitting projects. All these belongings stood in the way of decent housekeeping, made finding the essentials such as  keys and papework a tricky affair, and basic housework a very tedious task, wich as I started to postpone more and more often, for longer periods at a time.

In the meantime, challenges were arising at work, I had been accepted to fill a vacancy withing the customer services department , I had considered all the advantages(better salary, better rosta) , and had applied to be considered for a permanent position. But it was not all plain sailing, the competition was fierce, the training intense, the job demanding. I did achieve my goal eventually, but it was hard, and I gave a lot of myself to get to where I am now. In the travel industry, you must think very fast, deal with thousands of passengers in a day, solve their ticket arrays, deal with complaints, explain time tables, appologise for delays, help retrieve lost property, or even organise first aid. You are constantly on the frontline for twelve hours a day . I often came home totally exhausted, not willing to communicate with any other human being for the duration of the forthcoming week off!  I never felt like answering another phone call, use my brain to fill a form, perform any kind of "duty" even if it was only the mundane tasks of running my home , this was more than I could bear, I sometimes came home, find bills, letters, reminders, bank statements basic maintenance requests, advertising, junk mail, and I would think:

" No ! please  god, no! I 'll go through it another day, my brain is still raw from the effort I've made at work....how am I expected to open paperwork, fill forms, decide whether to discard or reply, Oh, please! all I want is to sleep, I need to be alone, I 'm so tired, so tired......I so much would like J  to be here with me to help"  

I would drag my feet and stumble indoors, kick my shoes of, remove my jacket, and crawl into bed, most of the time, showering, brushing my teeth, or getting changed were superfluous luxuries, only there to delay what I had been longing for for a week: sleep, be alone and sleep, slip under the duvet, still in uniform, and sink into oblivion, rest, peace at last, freedom!Not having to be on my best behaviour, not having to justify, fix, explain, anticipate, satisfy, just having to let go, and sleep, sleep, sleep, for as long as I could, just so I could gather up enough energy to do it all again and be ready for the onslaught of the following week....Sleep....glorious sleep...... 

 I would crash out for a few hours, if I had been on the night shift, I would even sleep untill mid afternoon, I would normally wake up feeling too hot , look around me, at the over spilling boxes and heaps of laundry on the floor, and would be overcome by either despair, irritation, or exhaustion, depending on how tired I was, shadows were creeping as the day drew close to an end, my stomach was rambling demanding food. I'd reluctantly drag myself out of bed, more often than not, I had no idea of the time, since my watch was likely to have been misplaced, and the electric alarm clock on the bedside table still switched of, because the plug socket had been unaccessible, hidden behind various clutter. So I looked through the window, to the high street down below, to see if the shops were still open,so I could estimate the time according to how many people passed through the street. Assuming it was too late to make it to the shops for fresh groceries,I would, switch on the Tv, rummage through the freezer, or open a tin of whatever I could find, gave it a quick blast in the microwave, pour onto a plate, and carry it to the living room, to eat in fromt of  the tv, washed down with lukewarm instant coffee.  By then, I was  a sorry sight, still wearing the same uniform as 24 hours ago, mascara from the night before forming crusts at the corner of my eyes, hair unwashed, uncombed. Did I care? most of the time, no, for there was not anybody to see me in that state anyway, and the essential was , I was home, warm, free from commitment of any kind, free to rest in peace, free to sleep. Soon enough, tired of staring at the adverts on tv, (just because I could not find the remote, burried under a big pile of ironing) I would feel the need to sleep again, even though I had been asleep most of the day, so I would abandon the dirty plate and cup on the carpet, next to the sofa where I could not seat because it was covered with miscancellous clutter, brush   breadcrumbs off the creased navy blue skirt, and make my way to the bedroom, still unsure of the time it could be. Sometimes, I would take a minute or so to grab from the floor an old greyish tracksuit bottom and a  T-shirt, and put them on, just so I could tell myself I was  doing well, getting changed for bed, but on many occasions, I would not even go that far, I would simply slip back under the covers, still dressed, with a sight of relief...... sleep.....sleep.....sleep....sleep at last!

Needless to say, the morning after, I did not exactly feel great about myself! Filthy and haggard, groggy from too much sleep, wallowing among dishes and laundry, it would on average take me a whole morning to come round and look vaguely human, I 'd shower and brush my teeth, then dress with frumpy old stuff picked of the floor, the ones that looked less dirty, not being too fussy about style back then, as long as it was clean and kept me warm, ablutions were also kept to a minimum, just enough to be clean, I would not , could not afford to waste time and energy with moisturiser, or make up or any other frivolities. Who cared anyway? who was there to notice? J was long gone. Back then, it's as if I had lost any sense of feminity, any self respect. I was looking drab and repulsive, and living in squalid conditions, letting dirt and mess build up, letting myself go, for the whole duration of the week off, then, I would resume my duties, put on my efficient and smily face, and struggle on, without ever letting anyone guess what was really going on inside. The day before returning to work, it would down on me that the entire week had been wasted , staring into space and chain smoking, procracinating. In the morning, I would rush out, already feeling exhausted, leaving behind me a week's worth of dirty dishes, and also:

A WEEK OR TWO WORTH OF UNOPENEND MAIL.

I had moments of lucidity, when, ralising I had ignored weeks, the months, of official mail, I thought it would get me in trouble, and that is where I seriously started to go adrift. Instead of getting a grip and patching things up, make ammends and wow never to let it go that bad again, I developped and avoidance technique, putting it off untill a later date, thern avoiding the issue once more. I kept it out of sight, and kept myself out of sight as well, going out less and less, because I started to believe that there would be somebody outside the door, or out in the street, waiting for me, asking , demanding, I became scared of answering the phone, I stopped listening to music, stopped watching tv, just in case the light and noise gave  away  my presence. Because I would not open the door, friends stopped coming round, so I became lonlier and lonlier.

I built a little protected bubble, where I would seek pleasure in reading crime novels and surf the internet, living of coffee, cigarette and biscuits, just because I would run out of clean dishes to cook , properly, or because there simply wasn't any proper food left indoors, and I was too terrified to go out. I would only venture outside in case of absolute necessity,and fresh food was not an absolute necessity, as long as there were stale biscuits and black coffee, or a few handfulls of dry cornfalkes to fill my rambling belly.

Yes, I did feel like I was in a deep dark hole, I was lonely and sick, and the sicker I got, the less able I was to tackle mail and maintenance issues, so I was locking myself away more securely, and therefore digging the big black hole deeper and deeper.

There were also times of remission, attempts to get back on track, but each time, I fell back, returned to square one.

Presently, I don't know if anything can be done to save me from disgrace or if have I sunk to low for redemption, I am comdemened to live like a criminal and recluse for the rest of my life.

to anybody reading this this, I would like  to say, don't put off things untill a later day,beware !

 procrastination can wreck lives!