Because I have not slept for an alarming amount of time.
Is there a none awkward way of starting a post following three months of 0 content? Possibly not. For those of you who noticed my absence, I apologise for the disappearing act. It annoys me when people disappear, a lot. I suppose it’s because I form attachments to them; an activity I do not reccomend you engage in for the the record. In fact, for someone who walks around like the biggest badass bitch, I am the literally the softest pile of mush you will ever have the
misfortune pleasure of meeting.
I have no justifiable reason as to why I left. Was I being dramatic? Always. There is literally no point denying that I am Star Plus on legs. Everyone who knows me will vouch for this I’m sure and hopefully confirm that this just makes me more loveable to them, not… unbearably annoying.
As a general rule, I’m in love with writing and I do think I’m good at it. But blog has recently gotten to a point where everything I wrote made me cringe, hard. So in a fit of rage, and in true Star Plus fashion with thunder and lightning in the background, I deleted
basically all A LOT of my content. I left one post where I had enough common sense not to say I was leaving blog again. I just left the option to return open in case I had a change of heart I suppose. Which I guess this is? Temporary or permenant, I have no idea. But I’m done forcing anything, anymore.
The lovely messages I recieved from a lot of you on comments and dm were heart warming. And I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to anyone. For the most part, I kept myself to myself these past few months and spoke to no one like the typical lone wolf that I am.
I had an epiphany though not long ago. If you’re
bored in the mood for a story…
My father felt very unwell in the middle of the night last month and woke me up to tell me so. What you should know at this point is that I am probably the worst person in a crisis and my mother, who is level headed, was out of town.
Anyway, Dad complained of chest pain which raised alarm bells in my head so I started helping him get dressed to take him to A & E. Then I’m trying to get dressed myself and giving strict instructions to my little sister about staying at home and not opening the door until my brother, who I am frantically trying to get hold of on the phone, gets home.
I help dad down the stairs. We make it to the living room and he collapses on the floor struggling to breath. At this point I realise there is no point trying to drive him anywhere and call for an ambulance. They eventually get to the house and load him into to the van and are about to drive to hospital. I tell the paramedic I’ll follow them in my car.
Except I get behind the wheel and I full on cannot even turn the key. I start to have the onset of a panic attack, an actual one with the numb arms, tense muscles, hyperventilation and all. Somehow I make it to hospital and it is only when I have to pay for parking at 1:00am that I full on breakdown and cry… because I didn’t have enough change. I sat mentally composing a post about the NHS demanding parking fees from A & E patients. Do they think we want to be there?
An hour in the waiting room where I waited whilst initial tests were being done made me realise how alone I felt. I was tired and sleepy and had work in five or so hours. This was the moment that I noticed that I was the only person who was sitting in the waiting room alone. I honestly felt drained and just wanted to rest my head on someone’s shoulder.
To compensate for the void I got my phone out to text someone for emotional support… but a few presses of buttons later, I decided that I would ride the wave solo. Because you see, if there is one thing I am good at, it’s not bothering anyone with my crap. At all. So I sat and cried. This uncle type looked at me with concern but otherwise everyone left me to my tears which is the British thing to do.
Five hours of silent agony later, they told me Dad’s test results were fine but they were keeping him in for the night. It was already morning to be fair so I drove home feeling like I was ready to drop with exhaustion. I had 40 minutes of just laying down, staring at my phone waiting for it to magically beep a notification before facing reality and getting ready for work.
This made me think back to all the times I actually got message notifications and hoped that they were from a specific person before even looking at the phone only to be disappointed they were not. Which baffles me a little… because recently I’ve learnt that company and compassion should not always be conditional. If it’s care you need, take it from whoever is kind enough to think of you and give it. Because whoever you wanted it from most certainly was not thinking of you when you were looking in all the wrong places.
And on that note. To work I go, functiong on 3 hours sleep.