Thursday 12 April 2001

I really don't know what to write today; my head is so full of thoughts and emotions all roiling around that what will be expressed in Trebuchet font will no doubt be pretty much stream of consciousness ... but we'll see how we go [that's the royal 'we', of course!].

So today was my last, final, concluding day at work. Mostly, I'm relieved; I feel as though every part of my being has taken an enormous, cleansing breath and with one foul, fly- and maggot-ridden exhalation, expelled all the accumulated stress, trauma and anxiety of the last years.

But there is still so much going on, so much to deal with. My confidence in my personal and professional selves has been so eroded, so ridden with doubt, that I have a lot of convalescing to do. It's just as well I have the next few weeks totally free to deal with all this crap, so I can get back to being 'me', and get on with life.

I know that the insidious voices in my head telling me I'm incompetent and a complete fuck-up aren't of my making; nor are they in any way accurate. But they are still there, still making their presence felt and affecting the way I feel about the future. Can I do what I want to do, or am I fooling myself? Is there any point trying to do something new and creative with my life? Or am I fundamentally the incompetent loser, the complete fuck-up of a human being, that the Abattoir tried to make me feel?

Logically I know it is really, really dumb to be thinking these thoughts. That I am not a fuck-up, either personally or professionally, that I was manipulated and brutalised into thinking so by the PTBs at the Abattoir from the very beginning. I know I can make the changes in my life, change my career goals, skills and qualifications, and also my personal future. I know I can do this. But nevertheless the voices continue, slipping in and whispering like an aggravated swarm of bees when I'm at my most vulnerable.

And I can't afford to listen to them, to allow them to influence the way I think and behave in the future. To allow that would be weak, it would mean that the PTBs had won. So I have a lot to work on ... Both practically - as outlined in previous entries - and personally. To fight the buzzing swarm that tells me I fucked up, because I know I did my best with what was available to me, ie, a no-win, untenable, totally manipulated situation. 

I apologise if this sounds terribly cryptic; one day I will tell you the whole chronology and history of my tenure with the Abattoir, but not yet. Not yet. It's time for a little positive brainwashing ... 

« « « « «

Pain levels are still up; perhaps not surprisingly given my current state of mind and also the exceedingly weird weather conditions Perth is experiencing at the moment. Inconsistent is not the word ... Anyway I'm managing the pain okay; lots of heatpacks and hot showers, a fair amount of codeine and valium when things get particularly bad. And from tomorrow on, lots and lots of sleep and pottering about. Bliss.

« « « « «

Reading:    How the Irish Saved Civilisation, by Thomas Cahill.

Listening to:    Best of Roxy Music and Bryan Ferry .... mmmmmm Avalon has to be the ultimate slowdance song. Pity I don't have anyone to slowdance with. 

Discovering and adoring:    Thought Experiment (apart from making me go all clucky - what a worry - Karen and Pär totally crack me up)

previous entry          home          next entry