I originally wrote this post in 2019 for an old and now retired blog.

This afternoon is one of those afternoons. The cacophony created by the oven, washing machine, lawnmowers, birds, someone’s TV, dogs barking, planes overhead, neighbours talking, shouting, swearing, belching hurt my ears but my headphones feel too hot and tight. The light is both too bright and too dim; if I try to read a book then the words jump around; if I close my eyes geometric patterns swirl menacingly across my eyelids. Even writing this is tricky – every word looks like it should have a red wriggly line underneath it. My joints feel cold and greasy. My skin hot and gritty. I am hungry, nauseous and full all at once. My head feels stuck on at the wrong angle and no amount of clicking my neck and shoulders can put it back on right. I can’t settle to anything. Everything seems unsurmountable, urgent and worthless. I am tired. I am restless.

I don’t know what this is and why this happens.

When I was little and paced around not knowing what to do with myself I was told that this feeling was boredom and that “only boring people get bored.” I didn’t understand why feeling this way made me a boring person but accepted that it was a major failing on my part.

At school and university these days could be torture. Teachers at the front of the class swung in and out of visual and audio focus. Words on the blackboard and page vibrated and floated away. My wrists resisted writing.

I guess that at least I get to look at it objectively as an adult. This day will pass. Maybe tomorrow I will know what it is that I want to eat, read, wear and do. Perhaps my bones will feel like they are in the right place, and my skin will fit. Hopefully sounds will make sense and I will be able to process the contrast in shapes, shades and hues. For now I will drink plenty of water, walk barefoot in the garden and appreciate that my husband and daughters understand that today I can’t make words come out right and that I am doing the best I can.