Message from the depths of self-pity

Wow, this week has been hard.

On the up-side, I finally found a new home, sharing with a lovely girl in North London (my allegiance to the North is complete), about half as close to work as I am now.

But, ohhh my stars, this week. Almost as soon as I had agreed to take the new place, I started to have doubts; and those doubts soon spun themselves into a full blown stress attack. It all hit me quite hard that I am going to be on my own. Again. My dreams in tatters. Starting over, for what feels like the hundredth time. Cue: near-fainting episode on the tube, a million commuters brushing by my huddled body. A guardian angel appears, whose kindness and concern provoke a flood-burst of tears. A colleague is called. I am given tea and put on a bus home once I feel well enough to stand and walk.

Thank god for the kindness of strangers (and workmates).

I am trying to work on my gratitude. I too easily fall into a state of self-pity and anxiety. I need to work out how to be thankful for what I have, and for those people around me who care and are helping me. Me, the lone wolf that I sometimes feel, proud of my independence but scared to let people see me as I really am. Which, right now, is a vulnerable mess. Putting on a brave face, because what else can I do but continue to function?

Me oh my.

Next week will be better.