BootsnAll Travel Network



A lament

I am in shock. I do not believe that I did not last more than a week. You have no idea what this has meant to me. Nobody could possibly have.

I am sitting in front of the computer, typing in a daze. I have spent the better part of two days in bed, but it is time to lay off the valium. It is not the solution. I have to try to face the enormity of what just happened, although I cannot take it in yet — just in tiny little bits. At least there are no more secrets in this blog. I have nothing to lose by talking freely.

I do not understand how I could be so worn out by the wind. How can I be so old and so weak? How can I be so tired and so anxious?

I suspected that I might find it hard to fit into the group. I kidded myself I could deal with the lack of privacy when I suffered agoraphobia not so ong ago. I thought all that was in the past but clearly it was not. I was tired, worn-out, angry at myself, anxious (“nervous” they called it) over-compensating and the situation was hopeless.

As if this was not enough, three of the group of four were already well-established: MSc students who had been involved with the trust’s work for two months and will continue until at least the end of August. I was not a little surprised to find this out in Tobermory, on the evening before we set off for the lighthouse. My role was superfluous — the project needed no supervisor and I felt like a dumbass.

I never hit it off with the volunteer coordinator either. She thinks I really am dumb — there are some people I cannot communicate with. I come across like a somewhat dense child no matter how hard I try and unfortunately she is one of these people.

Well, that is the long and the short of it. I am gutted. I believe this was my last shot at making a kind of life for myself. I need to get back to travelling, as soon as possible, because I can feel depression closing in on me. The clock has just been re-wound by two years. My shrink asked whether I could see the signs if it ever happened again and, oh yes, I can see them. An overwhelming sorrow and an ice-cold dread of the familiar. I need to travel to escape this, but I’m broke so I only have my mind to travel in. Thanks God the confusion is not yet there. I can still read and write OK. For now, this feels more like grief than depression so with a bit of luck I can escape through writing. I have been writing furiously since my little talk with the VC and just before, when I felt I had to leave. (I was merely pushed before I jumped). So long as I can write, I may be able to keep sane.

The important thing is not to close into myself while at the same time keeping reality at bay as best as possible by not thinking too much about the unthinkable. Just to get on with things. To get to bed, wake up, go through the motions every day. For as long as possible.

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