sick of me

I’m so fucking sick of myself.

I want to get dressed. I want to go outside, into the sunshine, and be by the sea. I want to do some writing. Instead I sleep 16 hours a day and can’t stay upright in bed for more than a few hours without feeling sick and shaky. I feel bleak. I have done for a while. I want to be able to focus on other people, on R, instead of my own stupid little problems.

This isn’t life. This isn’t living.

My parents are coming to visit next month and I need to be better by then. I need to be able to get up and do things and not throw up or collapse. They have no idea what things are like for me right now, and to be honest they think it’s a case of just being tired all the time, and it’s too awkward and embarrassing to try and explain what my days are like over Skype. I only told my mother about the possible ME thing a few weeks ago, and it’s been on my chart since November/December. Anyway, I just don’t want to be like this when they’re here.

And I want to be able to feed myself properly without relying on R. I have lots of microwaveable meals that don’t require preparation, just a clean bowl and cutlery, but there are times when I can’t even do that. Last night I was so hungry I sat on the kitchen chair and ate salmon out of a tin with one of the cats watching greedily. It was the first time I’d been in the kitchen in a while–I’m actually not sure how long. I’m supposed to be a vegetarian but I kept hearing things about fish oils being good for you, and so. Fuck knows I need to get as much nutrients as possible, what with the old vitamin D and iron deficiencies. And so.

It’s one step up from eating catfood, really, especially as I was in my dressing gown and don’t remember the last time I got dressed. At least I got to ~bond~ with my cat. And yeah, I did give him a bit of salmon. We banqueted together.

I can guess what would happen to me if I were single, you know. I remember how bad I was at taking care of myself at university. How I didn’t eat for days and lived off cigarettes and slowly fell to pieces in the dark. Even now I don’t handle things like bills or paperwork or foodshopping. I don’t know how much is in our bank account and it is best for me not to know, because I use it as a hammer and beat myself with it. Even when it’s not bad.

I never could look after myself, and if I had to take care of myself now, I would probably end up being the catfood. I swear, sometimes the cats get a particular glint in their eyes when they’re running low on food. One day my strength will fail me as I totter down the messay hallway to their bowls, I’ll go crashing to the floor, and then…

Well. I’m sure they’ll have the decency to wait until I’m properly dead before they begin their feasting. May they get much nourishment out of me. There’s certainly a lot more meat on my bones than there used to be, now that I have R to feed me.

posted by jeneli

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