Not waving

Can't write. Seriously considering jacking the whole lot in. Seems to be getting harder and harder, not easier. Rationally, I know its just a few short months to go and then it'll all be over – I can have my life back again – but for now, I''m falling into a pit of inertia. My brain won't think, my fingers won'yt tyope, my confidence is shattered and I'm sat here wondering what the hell it's all for? Why?

All I can see as a possible future for me is: working behind the bar at the Acorn or some other place, maybe a bit of modelling, doing some hours for Traveller Space if they still need me, the odd session at Carnyorth, possibly some hours with Trelya... all still on my own but older. So what's the point of carrying on, struggling with it, for a bloody useless piece of paper? Where's the sense in it? I'm old, and on the decline. Grey hairs, wrinkles, sagging body – it's all an increasingly unattractive package, and the reality of that is beginning to dawn on me. So I don't want to be squandering away my health, sanity and family's well-being for something I don't even believe in any more.

It hasn't ever bothered me until now – I never really considered that growing old might be an issue. When you're with someone I don't suppose it really matters – you don't have to worry about being old alone. But when you're single, it's terrifying. I don't want to be on my own. Don't want to be alone.

I used to believe that I could maybe, one day, be a writer. Now I've changed my mind.

But it's not the writer's block – it's the life block that's really getting me down. I just want to curl up in a little ball and retreat. Want to be incredibly self-destructive; self-harming; feel some real physical pain to take away from the emotional hurts. I keep thinking about cutting myself (which I've never done before) or sticking my fingers down my throat (which I have done, but too often, so that now it's that much harder to get a gag reflex/actually be sick) or just starving myself (but that's not easy when you're preparing food for others all the time). I keep eyeing up the wine bottles to see if I could use alcohol to self-medicate, but having seen what that's done to Terry I'm wary of taking that route. Other drugs are too expensive and hazardous. So what's left?

I could do a runner I suppose. Guess I've been doing that all my life. Running away from my past – running away from me. But that's not going to do my kids any favours.

Yesterday was Billy's birthday. He's eleven now. My baby's eleven years old and it won't be long before they've all headed out the door. He was very sweet and appreciative of his presents, and of what little effort we made to celebrate his special day. At least the new bike was a hit. We did all go and watch him in his elephant role in the Jungle Book performance though – even Eddie who had to drag himself away from a last gasp effort at completing coursework, and then had to stay up til three in the morning to try and finish it (sounds familiar). Lucy had made a smashing cake yet again, and we rounded off the evening with a rousing game of Dare, which turned out to be unexpectedly hilarious (but demonstrated how unfit I've become as I could barely do any press-ups when instructed to).

Band practice was far from fun though. I completely lost the plot – burst in tears and was unable to regain my composure for the rest if the session. Hate making such a twat of myself. Also hate it when the others unilaterally decide what I will and won't be playing. It was decided (in my absence) that I wouldn't be playing violin on the Latin American tune anymore, but percussion instead. Fucking great. Just when I was beginning to get into, and enjoy playing the violin, they knock my confidence for six and make me feel like shit. Bloody marvellous. I'd felt nervous enough as it was about going up there, and probably having to have a chat with Gra afterwards about 'stuff', and then that happens. And then the bastards made me sing Heart of Granite all choked up, with eyes brimming and tears spilling down my cheeks. Have they no idea??

Gra certainly doesn't. Our chat has only made me feel even worse than ever. So another fitful night of not sleeping, and another shitty day at the computer achieving nothing.

Heidi, Wendy, and Greg and Daisy coming round for curry and Himalaya DVD tonight. Has been quite a social week, what with book club here on Tuesday night – Billy's sleepover party to come. Not been conducive to getting any study done, but judging by today's abysmal effort, maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I'm just not meant to be doing it right now and this is my self-preservation mechanism kicking in? (although I'm not so sure, as surely it would be in my best interests to get it all done and out of the way so that I'd be free of any pressure). Who knows.

Will try one last attempt at carrying on with chapter one for the day – still have 2hours before dinner guests arrive.