I used to have interests.
I used to be into stuff. Passionate about stuff.
Now it all seems to be such an effort. My minds like a sieve. Stuff drips through it, drains through it and retention seems ever harder. And that’s frustrating.
I have to force myself to remember stuff as it’s not coming naturally. And that’s actually a painful exercise, trying to force yourself to recall facts and figures that seem to be elusive the moment they float into your brain.
I know I have Fibro Fog. I know it’s going to be hard but, three years later, I’d have hoped for some improvement. I’d have hoped that there were the first budding roots of an interest developing. That the first seeds had been planted.
But there’s nothing.
I can’t relax and perhaps that’s an issue. My brains fighting Fibro Fog and I’ve had two strokes. I’m anxious and stressed all the time. I don’t know how to relax so nothing’s coming naturally. It’s all contrived and forced. My brains taking a battering and my worrying about not remembering is just adding to the stress and worry. It’s a vicious circle.
Works an extra pressure.
All I want to do when I come home is crash. Go on my iPod. Do Twitter. Watch YouTube videos. I try and read before I go to my fitful, disturbed non restful sleep. But it doesn’t sink in and I skip more than I read because I find it frustrating.
I’ve never had a vast range of interests. I’ve never had hobbies as such that involve making things or anything practical. But I’m sure I had some.
But then I question that. I question everything. Have I ever had a genuine (and that’s the important word), genuine interest in anything at all ?.
Travel. Sure but that’s not a 24/7 consuming hobby as it’s governed by finances so it’s not a practical thing. Egyptology. Now there’s a thing. So many books, started to teach myself how to readHieroglyphs, gone in a moment. Football. Yeah but I don’t play. I enjoy football but it’s not something I avidly follow. Not now.
Partially I think it’s because I’m a failure. I’ve never been good at anything. Never done anything that made me think, yeah, I could do this, I enjoy this, I can make this work. So my mind knows that I’m not going to achieve anything so hey, why bother ?.
Things I might have been good at and I do stress might, are no longer open to me. So now there’s regret at missing out to go into the equation as well.
I feel very broken. Very useless.
I want to punch myself, to wake up. I self harm but that doesn’t seem to make me any more aware or any brighter. Perhaps I do it to punish myself for failing again.
I’ve had personal loss, I’ve had illness but I can’t keep using them as excuses. They are, they’re certainly factors in my state of numbness but I need to wake up.
Only I can’t. I just can’t.
I’m tired. Disillusioned. Fed up. Exasperated.
What the hell happened to me ?