I need to do...

2003-12-08 at 11:02 p.m.

Christmas coming up, lots of conclaves with relatives. I love my nana, but I don't want to see her, I don't want to pretend everything is great. She doesn't know about anything thats happened, my parents know part but they said not to tell her as it would only worry her. Thats true, and she is elderly and would be distressed if I was ill - particularly mentally, which she wouldn't understand. But its hard not telling her, because I get on so well with her. Actually when I was little, whenever I was ill I'd go stay with nana, because both mum and dad worked. And she'd give me lots of tea and soup and we'd watch the TV. Good times.

Its hard not telling my cousin, too. I was brought up to think of her as the sister I never had, because we're the same age, or near enough. I did have sisters, but they died before I was born. Helen has always been like a sister to me, we've always got on well. Which is odd because we're very different people. She's organised, and very collected - never gets ill or flummoxed by anything. She's doing a Phd at the moment. But I can't tell her whats going on because firstly I don't think she'd understand, and secondly she'd tell nana. I don't think she'd realise why we decided not to tell nana.

I need to write to my aunty in Australia too. She was the first family member I told about all this. Though I didn't tell her about the suicide attempts or the cutting. She was delighted I confided in her. My mum doesn't get on with her, but I always have. I think its because she lives so far away, I know I can confide in her and she's not going to turn up on my doorstep or anything. And she'll not tell mum if I don't want it. Plus, she was a nurse. I wrote to her, then she rang, and then wrote me a long letter. I didn't write back, though I've started loads of letters to her. I just don't seem to have the energy, but it makes me feel guilty - what if she's worrying about me? I'll speak to her at Christmas, we always do, but I'd like to write. I've got to get down to it.

Lots of things to do. I might buy a new bible. There's a really nice looking one for £50 I've seen, but thats very expensive and I already have a ton of Bibles from studying. But I love nicely bound books, with leather and india paper and gilt - and Bibles are pretty much the only books which have those now.

Still no hope of a job. I've just applied for a great one, but I don't know whether I'll get it. Its to be a trainee reporter with a newspaper. Trouble is everyone and their dog will be applying for it, its a really really good job. Oh well, I've done what I can. Short of bribery there's nothing else to do.

Seeing the psychatrist on the 16th, I've got to think about what to say to him. I find it quite difficult to talk to him, I don't like people looking at me when I'm making difficult admissions. Strange, eh? Plus I keep thinking of him as this "funny little guy" and forget that I don't know him and he's certainly not sweet - so I get flustered. Course it doesn't help that his height makes me feel like a giant and an enormously fat, clumsy person. I don't know whether I'll tell him how confused I've been getting, forgetting who I am, thoughts going out my control, feeling suicidal again...I don't know. Its pampering myself, playing up to my own vanity - if I ignore it, it'll go away. Store these things up to tell the doctor, they'll only get worse for my paying attention to them.

But at the same time I am chatty, I like telling people, and I like talking about myself I guess. Why else would I have such a vain thing as a personal diary online? I keep telling myself I should give it up, should stop telling people how I'm feeling, stop letting other people in, showing them I'm vulnerable, stop pandering to my own self-esteem.

I dunno.

<< - >>
Notes | G-book