And I'm back from Swindon, and the lovely Magic Roundabout...
Weekend away was good, on the whole. Saturday morning when I had to go in and register for the convention I was at and find my team for the weekend, I froze up, and it took me an age to get through the anxiety and go in, but I did. I didn't go to all the events and activities, but I was pleased with myself for the amount that I did go to. Also contributed and talked to people more than I thought I would - when we had to put together a two minute play using a bunch of pre-set criteria, I wrote our team's one. I'm normally far too shy to do that.
Then, as I was waiting around the lobby to go home, I had a strange moment. I was booked on a specific train so was just killing time until I had to leave for the station, and thinking back over the weekend. And suddenly out of nowhere I just felt tired of being alive. Just utterly fed up of every day becoming a mission to force myself to do things, of constantly telling my brain to shut up, and of constantly feeling like everything I do has no worth to it. I felt like I wanted to just get up and walk out the lobby, but I didn't want to go home either...I just wanted to be somewhere, anywhere where I didn't have to deal with this every day. It wasn't suicidal, because I didn't want to die, it just felt like this was going to be my life forever and I felt exhausted at the thought of it and didn't want to go through with it.
And from that, today I've crashed massively, I felt worse than I have in a long time. Until 4 this afternoon I'd only been out of my bedroom to shower. I hadn't had anything to drink, I'd eaten a box of muffins only because they were in my room, and was huddled in bed reading because the plot distracted my mind from feeling awful. At 4 I did summon the will to go outdoors and down to the shops though. Felt horrible being out of my room, but I think it helped, I have felt gradually better this evening.