And do you think someone was waiting there for me? I don’t think so.
I started making posts about finishing my life but because I wanted to sound friendly, polite, nonthreatening and indirect, it probably looked like I’m writing poetry.
I really don’t know how to talk to people. How to tell them, when I need something, without being seen as dramatic, ubrupt or, the opposite – being seen as push over.
I don’t think like this life is for me, you know? It just really doesn’t seem to be working.
My ex employer keeps ringing me, although I presume the person who does that probably didn’t check why I am not with them any more.
I just know things can’t be like that any more. I’m not even working, but yet, I’m constantly miserable. Is it because I believe that I should be ‘myself’? And this is how I understand that? – not doing anything that requires any effort, not having direction.
Life before the diagnosis was difficult in a lot of ways, but now it’s difficult too, just in a different way.
Perhaps I should close the blog and go back to having regular, boring life? I don’t understand. I thought blogging will make me happy. And it did, in a way. Yet, I cannot sustain that.
So I am here, again, wondering what is wrong with me, even though I already know. It’s in my medical file, isn’t it? It should make things clearer, but it didn’t.