Yesterday I hit the hay hard. I was tired in a way that was everything. From limb to heart to hairs on the head, every part of me KO’d and done. I’m not even sure I was tired. I just knew I needed to sleep.

If sleep was the ambition I’d set myself yesterday then I would have nailed it completely. But it wasn’t, my sights were set a bar higher. Fix living arrangements, fix placements, do uni work, post office, look after Ma, check in on Old Man, fix up some finances, call the PC repair guy, laundry, contact agencies for work, write a music review, replace my spare tyre; generally fix up and try be an adult.  

Just writing that out, I see the problem. My bar was set maybe too high. Though with home life, family life, work life and studies seeming always one seemingly inch from disintegrating, there aint a moment when pressure don’t press.

I got up as normal. I sat at my desk. And I dizzied at trying to do any of the above before moving on to the next, moving on every time not just not finishing something but unable to even begin. After flailing and failing at each in no order, my scalp buzzed a familiar tingle. The electric-hit goosebump of panic. The same one I used to get before seizures and it’s been some good years since they hit.

Each task stacked like a tower, insurmountable. And while that circle of stalagmites pressed in and up around me, reaching closer to the sky than I’d ever get, I damned them for being so close to the blue as my daylight drowned out and I cried. And the salt didn’t wear the rocks down. So I went crashed back to bed for the first time. Hoping to wake brighter and lighter.

I get up as normal, but it’s now 5pm. I repeat the above almost exactly.

(And just how we got to this post, right here is where it all started….)