No picture or otherwise today. I have a lot of titles in my drafts with no effort to start them. Each time they start but then they quickly end up off track and not saying what I want to say. I think I have a bit of writer's block. I want to find my words again and I'm hoping my voice returns soon.
As I lay here I can hear the ambulances from the local hospital whizzing down the main road. We live quite close to a main A road and to the local fire station so it's not something I am not used to, but today it's quite nice listening to the noises from the road and the helicopter flying overhead. This also makes it sound like I live in a very busy place when I don't. It's like an enclave surrounded by green with a view of the river, with the trees all the way down the hill to the river. We have lots of birds too: Jays, doves, wagtails, sparrows and the odd obese pigeon. Listening to these sounds is grounding, it makes me feel at home. Not home home, just earth home. I'm having a day where home home is enticing, so grounding and addressing my faith is important.
And yes I am in bed. It's a safe(ish) place and although writing this on my phone is a challenge, it's necessary.
I had a thought the other day, when I was having a tough time and I put it into words: I feel like I'm scraping the barrel; I don't know how much more I can do this. It felt dangerously so, like I was scraping oil out of the bottom of an engine. It does worry me I don't have the resources I used to gave, that they have all been 'used' and that I've hit the realisation I'm scraping dangerously thin. Yes I am resilient, but I think I have paid an ultimate cost of my mental health and my own energy. I'm not sure at 26 it's supposed to be like this, after years of fighting oppression, overcompensating and being generally drained. I hated school partly because it drained me socially, emotionally and psychologically. Primary school in particular. But then there's general other stuff I'm coming go realise is not normal human experience. Just other stuff.
I do worry about the barrel being scraped so thin. But I've also had the sense the job I will do doesn't currently exist, and that I can never really see myself getting old. I have no idea what these may mean. But what I do know is being me is a draining task.
I'm not sure how much more my engine can cope, like my little blue Agila when I drove around with no oil for three weeks. I was heartbroken how much damage I had caused to her.
But now I can't help thinking about the damage I'm doing to me, just through doing, being and dealing.
I know humans are resilient little things, but it does concern me.