It’s a difficult thing to define, feeling not OK. In this case it’s feeling tired and warn down and like I’ve had a very, very long day even though I didn’t get up until 12 and haven’t left the house.
It may or may not have something to do with my realisation that even though I definitely have friends here, people that I genuinely care about and of course my lovely best friend, I don’t really feel, well, OK telling them I’m not alright. I have spent the last half hour debating whether or not I should message said best friend and tell her I’m not OK. One part of me knows she’ll help, she won’t get mad, she won’t get pissy, she won’t tell me I’ve ruined her night and ask me to come talk to her in the morning instead. Because she cares. The rest of me is telling me that she’s a) definitely hanging out with her flatmates (they’re having a movie night) and b) possibly hanging out with her maybe something, (who happens to be a fab guy who will also not get pissy), and thus the notion of sending her something totally out of the blue asking for her support makes me feel guilty. which is really not helping matters, just for the record.
And so, here we are, instead of messaging her, I’m going to write this, and I might even post it.
I’m not OK. I’m not OK because today I had a several hour conversation first over DM and later on the phone with one of my friends from home. Don’t get me wrong I love her, I really do. She’s had a shitty last couple of months and, as much as I feel like sometimes we’re very uneven in the way responsibility and support falls in our relationship, I do genuinely enjoy hearing from her. During the course of this conversation we arranged times she would come up and visit and times I would go home and see her, we figured out, kinda, where the others life is at, I told her I was going to seek some mental health support (which I will as soon as I successfully book an appointment), oh, and another one of my friends (not friend, we are not friends) started weird one sided drama.
The drama got to me. Bad. Some days are better than others and today was a bad day. I honest to God just couldn’t cope. I was sat on the floor of my bedroom verging on a panic attack and trying to keep myself calm enough to remember that she is much, much too far away from me to do anything. It didn’t really help. Then I fought the urge to reach out to my best friend on the basis that she was out watching her flatmate play football and I would feel really terribly, awfully, guilty if I dragged her away. At the same time I really needed her, but I didn’t want to do that, and a tiny terrible self-deprecating part of me honestly believed that even if I messaged her she wouldn’t come, she wouldn’t leave for me. I’m not worth it. And then I felt bad for thinking that of her. Of course she would.
It hasn’t really stopped since then. I feel bad, I feel guilty, I feel like I might cry, or I might shut down at any moment. It probably doesn’t help that I just finished and submitted the first ever film studies essay I have ever done, ever, and It’s at degree level. It probably doesn’t help that today I woke up to a bad day for my mental health and one of my flatmate’s parents in the kitchen. It probably doesn’t help that I spent my first three hours awake today shut up in my room, that I feel like I haven’t seen anyone today and that I’m now (by virtue of that) some kind of social pariah, even though I know full well that no one in my flat has really seen anyone today. It probably doesn’t help that I have a bunch of stuff I was supposed to get done and that I just haven’t done. It probably doesn’t help that I’ve had a headache for the last hour and a half at least. And it definitely doesn’t help that if my best friend is hanging out with her maybe something and her flat at hers tonight that I won’t see her until tomorrow, and I won’t see her maybe something (my flatmate) until tomorrow when he brings two of his mates round, which is a shame, because he is one of the easiest people to be around ever, and right now I feel like even sitting here in the kitchen with one of my other flatmates, my typing the only sound in the room other than the constant hum of the heaters, is taking more effort than it should, and maybe he would alleviate that.
I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m not OK, and the thought of reaching out to the only person in the world I want to talk to right now is really, really scary. I don’t want to push her away, and I don’t want to feel like I’m relying too heavily on her, but at the same time, I really need her.
But I’m a coward at heart. And so instead I’m going to post this under oversharing, I’m gonna make some dinner that I don’t really want on the basis that I should eat, and I’m going to try and do the required reading for tomorrow before my head explodes.