Until Tomorrow

She’s been doing this for over three weeks now. She gets up, puts on her mask and goes to work. Her colleagues can’t tell the difference, or at least she believes this to be the case. She’s more detached than usual, less likely to partake in daily banter but on the surface little seems different. She’s probably just busy or distracted, they think. Her attention span isn’t what it used to be but she thinks she’s hiding this pretty well too. She makes a note of everything because she’ll forget it if she doesn’t. Her ability to make tough decisions has all but disappeared so she tries to avoid them at all costs and eagerly takes guidance from colleagues.

Once home, the mask comes off. Aah, that’s better. It’s been smothering her, it’s tough work keeping it on all day. In fact it’s utterly exhausting. At least she’s at home now, she shuts the door and is safe from the stress of real life for today.

She should make dinner but feels no incentive. The only value in eating is to quieten the grumbling sound in her abdomen, so she goes straight to bed, eats 2 bars of chocolate and that does the trick for now. Not even chocolate tastes good anymore so why make the effort of real meals. She’ll be hungry again in an hour and will make another poor dietary choice. She’ll eat better tomorrow, when the real world hasn’t felt like such a struggle, just not today. Maybe tomorrow.

She’s deleted her dating profile for now, it’s such hard work interacting with the people she knows and likes that there’s no way she’s in a position to converse and get to know new people. It’s only online but it still requires wearing the mask. It is easier than real world interaction, she knows that but she just can’t be bothered for now. Maybe tomorrow.

What if she went for a walk? Get some air in her lungs, she’s been told repeatedly that exercise is good when she feels like this but she can’t seem to face up to it. The prospect of 30-45 minutes alone with her thoughts while out in the world, is terrifying. She’s tried all day to not let those thoughts in, she’s certainly not going to let them waltz into her consciousness now. The far preferable option is to stay indoors with a box set, away from her thoughts. Her attention span is dead so she can’t risk a movie but she thinks she can manage a TV episode or two. Surely she’s not that much a victim to her own cognition.

Why doesn’t she just go to the doctor or call that person she used to go to when she last felt like this? Well, she can’t even write this in the first person yet so she’s clearly not ready to be proactive in dealing with these feelings. Besides, she just might feel a little stronger tomorrow.

Maybe talk to a friend then, wouldn’t that be easier? Her friends are busy with their own lives so she won’t inconvenience them with something intangible that they can’t fix anyway. Besides, she’d only be whinging. They’ve real lives with real problems. She’s just feeling sorry for herself, it’s not like there’s anything really wrong with her. And maybe it’ll pass, it could all be gone tomorrow and it’ll turn out she was whinging for nothing.

She does know that only she can fix this but she just doesn’t have the energy today. Besides, she’s got to put that mask on again tomorrow and without a good nights sleep that’s going to be tougher than today. So she clings to the hope that she’ll get a good night’s sleep, that tomorrow will be magically better somehow and she won’t have to face up to dealing with this.

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Comments on: "Until Tomorrow" (2)

  1. Ms D… as ever, you eloquently sum up how many feel, but cannot express – sometimes even to themselves. If it provides any solace, always know that – even in the darkest of days – there are those that think of you and smile. And even more importantly – at least you aren’t Ronan Mullen or Fidelma Healy Eames! PC

  2. unrequitedtealover said:

    I echo what Pat said.

    Especially the Ronan Mullen / Fidel ma Healy-Eames bit.

    You know, you’re a bit of a ledge. Especially on the days when breathing seems herculean. One step at a time G, we’re rooting for you. You’re not on your own, there’s an amphitheatre full of cheerleaders for you.

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