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And the beast is back.

I'm pretty tired of this battle. All of my energy is focused on fighting rock-bottom moods, panic attacks, errant thoughts, constant fears. To get out of bed, say 'good morning' to my housemates and make eye-contact with myself in the mirror, willing myself to feel hopeful about the day, is enough to send me back to bed, exhausted. Some mornings I have done that.
I am trying, though, but I can't predict what each day will bring, and it's taking its toll on everything, most recently uni. This semester might have to go on hiatus because I just can't work, and while I feel a little more at ease at the thought of study no longer hanging over my head, there's this voice that follows me around.

'Failure,' it says.

'You don't work, you don't even volunteer anymore or go out or do anything, and you still couldn't keep up with three measly subjects. Not like your housemates, who work and study and are involved with endless other activities and still manage good results. You're incapable, you're a failure, you can't do it. What good are you really? How do you ever hope to make a difference if you can't even write an essay? How will anyone ever love you when all you do is nothing? You're a failure, and no one wants that; no one wants you, you're just taking up space.'

I don't think I'd exactly worked out those thoughts until writing them... But there they are. As a response, here is what I got up to today:

• Got out of bed! Yay!
• Drove to the shops. What an achievement.
• Organised the shit out of the pantry. Yeaaah.
• Pulled up as many weeds as I could find in the 'garden'. Made so many analogies to life as I did so.
• Cleaned the toilets and bathroom. Gee they get gross.
• Had myself a nap. Unintentional.
• Tried organising some 'what the hell am I doing with uni!?' stuff, to no avail.
• Tidied the back room.

Well, I'm sure I'm not quite a failure... But I don't think that voice is going to leave any time soon...
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