It’s not easy to admit but, like everyone, I often make the wrong choice. Given my generally precarious mental state, these wrong choices can result in anything from a bad day which leads to a bit of self-harm and/or a lot of crying before getting back on track, to a complete breakdown and having to pick myself up from nothingness.

Today, for example, I decided to stay in bed. This was a more conscious decision than on some days when I have no option but to do so, the world being too scary a place to be able to deal with, but it was clear from the moment I woke up that little would get done today. In the past, pre-loopiness, I loved these indulgent days, snuggled up in bed. A good book, a film or two, several naps. Now the lack of distraction is always dangerous. And yet today, knowing this, I still made that decision as if I were powerless to stop it.

This is why it’s so difficult to get therapy to work, why trying to be mindful and “being kind to yourself” fail so often: no matter what I know to be sensible or the right decision, so often I make the other. It’s why I sit on Facebook, hoping someone will notice me and say hello (and why I end up tearful when no one does; it’s happened too many times to not know that this will always be the outcome); it’s why I buy a bottle of wine or a couple of bottles of beer or cider and drink them alone, despite knowing that they will ultimately make things worse; it’s why I can still sometimes be found watching dramatic and tragic films instead of light and mood-lifting comedies or intriguing documentaries.

So this morning even as I thought that I should probably get up and head into town or take a walk, I got back into my pyjamas and back into bed and stayed there, letting the inevitable thoughts take over. My lost mind takes over. I don’t know how to stop it.


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