Years ago, when my doctor thought the only thing wrong with me was a light dusting of depression, I was referred to a service provided by… the council? I’m not sure, but it was in a room above the local library, which was all the enticement I needed. So once a month, on a Monday morning, I met with an increasingly pregnant dungarees-wearing woman who tried to entice me from my cocoon of illness back into the world.
The trouble was, everything she suggested sounded too scary.
Continue reading I want to want to feel better (but I’m too scared to actually want to)
In so much of what I see and read — from the newspaper giving advice on working two jobs to the blogger saying absolutely anyone can take up running — it’s assumed that I’m one of the “normal” people, too: able-bodied, independent, mentally and emotionally stable.
But my life stopped being “normal” when I was 19, and since then I’ve become less and less connected to the outside world and to what real life is like. I was shunted into this parallel universe where I’ve forgotten how it feels to have the stamina to walk to the nearest bus stop, or to not have a head full of cotton wool.
Continue reading Your life is science fiction to me (and vice versa)