It’s almost nearly hometime

The mornings always start out the same. Fear has woken me. It sits heavy and solid , compressing my heart. My breathing is shallow. I’m frightened. About nothing specific. Just frightened. Scared. I don’t want to do this – get up, get going, get through another day. Another day terrifies me. I don’t know why. As the light through my curtains brightens, I lie in bed, my knees tucked up under my chin, waiting for the alarm to go off, taking deep breathes, trying to steady the sense of doom.

Get up. Get dressed – that’s easy, I chose my outfit last night. I told myself I didn’t have to wear make up, but once I’d done my hair and washed my face, it seemed to come naturally.

Throw some fruit and two hard boiled eggs in my handbag for lunch – even though I know I won’t eat any.

Take morning meds if I remember. Sometimes I forget. Often I forget.

Melancholia Depression - a sense of deep sadness

Melancholia Depression – a sense of deep sadness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Again, the sense of doom as I double-triple check I have everything for work but still have that awful feeling I’ve left something behind.

Drive to work in a stop-start traffic jam listening to music. Trying to ‘thaw’ out and melt into this strange world.

Get to work. Sort coffee and water. Smile and say hello. Start work.

Work, work, work, work, work. Oh shit it’s only 9am.

I tell myself, come on now, it’s not that bad, you’re already one hour in. Work, work, work. Smile and say hello, tell a story, give an opinion – sorry what were we talking about. I don’t remember.

It’s 11am.
Okay. You’re doing this. You’re getting there. It’s only 1 hour away from midday and that’s the halfway mark. You’re doing so good. Smile. Laugh.

It’s 12noon.
Ohmygod, thankgod. I’ve done it. It’s halfway. The hard part is over. You’re in the last stretch now and its all downhill from here. Only 4 and a half hours left to go ’til hometime.  Tell a joke.  Laugh as if I care.

It’s 2pm.
Ooooohmygod. Thankgod. It’s 2pm! It’s almost nearly hometime because with one hour ’til 3pm and just over one and a half hours until 4.30pm, you could easily say 2pm IS hometime.

It’s 3pm.
Well, one might as well say hometime…

It’s 4.30pm.
Aaaaaaaaaah! My favourite time of the day. Grab my bag, join the stampede to the carpark.

It’s 5pm.
Home. Drop handbag still containing fruit and eggs, strip off clothes and climb into bed, which I never should have left.
Start again and do over another 364 times.

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