You might remember that business opportunity I was given a week or so ago?
Well I decided to go for it. Prepped up my little kitchen, went to the cash and carry, spent an entire day baking goodies, bagging up treats and digging out items to decorate our stall and barely took a minute to eat, or more importantly, drink anything, then packed up my car with delicious things, had a bath and a nice glass of red wine to ensure a good night sleep to prepare me for the early start and busy day the next morning.
Unfortunately for me it didn’t quite work out that way.
Most of you know that whilst I’m not a big drinker, I haven’t totally eschewed drinking alcohol on top of my meds, and I generally get away with it.
This night I didn’t. I can only assume that I was totally dehydrated, as the wine clashed horribly with my medication and I spent the whole night having crazy trippy dreams.
I won’t go into too much detail as I know how boring other people’s dreams tend to be, but I promise you, this was anything but boring. The overlying theme was my being worried about sleeping through my alarm and I kept finding myself in strange landscapes with strange people, trying to find my way home before the alarm went off. The dream also featured me in various states of undress, insects that stung and laid their eggs on me and when I pulled out the stinger, whole grubs and bugs would ooze out and rapidly be replaced by others, all strung together, Lionel Blair, of all people, kept saying strange things to me, I couldn’t snap the string, I wandered from bus stop to train station, there was a weird keening in the background, and then an eerie cat, who turned out to be a real cat, my Dexter, woke me up glowing fuzzy and green in the dark. Then I fell asleep again and when I woke up the next time the alarm had gone off and I felt like total dog shit.
I tried to get out of bed and was nearly sick, and when I closed my eyes again, Lionel was back grinning maniacally saying ‘It’s the schtick. The SCHTICK’ like a mentalist again, so suffice to say, I didn’t trust myself to drive, let alone work on a market stall, so in the end, I had to let down my friends, and bail.
To say I was devastated was an understatement.
How unlucky can one person get?
I had rung in sick in my last job so many times, that the sense of failure from having to do it for something I genuinely wanted to do for a living came flying back in glorious technicolour. Plus I had let down my friends, and what the hell was I going to do with all the food?
Then I remembered that later that afternoon I had to go and talk to someone about claiming benefits as my financial situation is getting quite scary, and I thought I maybe I had found meaning in what had happened.
Maybe I wasn’t meant to start trading until after my therapy?
Mind you, if this was a message from God/Buddha/the Universe/Frith, I’d much sooner they’d told me about it before I‘d wasted shitloads of money, and baked up a storm, but no matter, I’ll take what i can get, I suppose.
So, come 4pm a very wan, shaky moi headed off to the advice centre armed with a load of paperwork, a bottle of water and a banana cake. If nothing else, someone was going to enjoy the fruits of my labour and as it turned out, my volunteer Nadia was extremely chuffed to receive my RAK thank you gift too.
And whilst it makes sense for me to claim something (I’ve worked and paid taxes since i was 16 so I’m hardly a benefits scrounger) while I’m getting therapy, it was still disheartening to even consider it, so I went home tired, cakeless, and even though I’d made someone’s day, pretty downhearted.
I then received a text reminding me that I was going to see the movie ‘Gravity’ with my friend Adam that night.
In 3d. Oh God.
The tickets were already bought, plus it was an early birthday present so I had to go, but believe me, I still felt very spaced out (pardon the pun) and probably wouldn’t even need the special glasses.
The movie, it has to be said, was amazing, especially as at times I actually felt like I was in it, with the added disadvantage of being able to empathise whole heartedly with Sandra Bullock’s character’s space sickness, as I probably felt worse than she did. I also had to close my eyes in parts and flinched as missiles flew past my beleaguered head wishing fervently that I was at home in my bed, but I survived.
Or thought I had, as when i got home, I felt the onset of one of my mega migraine attacks, and couldn’t take drugs as I was scared of tripping again.
And when it kicked in i remember whining pathetically to God ‘You’re just a big bully! What the fuck did I ever do to you?’
But when the pain got too much, I thought sod it, and took a Migraleve. What the hell, it was just a mad dream, and the better of two very unpleasant evils.
Except this time the dream was extremely unpleasant.
I was back in an even more hellish version of my previous job were I was trapped in the building, everyone blatantly hated me, everyone was out to get me and my boss presided over and pushed me toward a variety of tortures and humiliations, none of which I could escape from.
Jesus Christ, I left that job 18 MONTHS AGO! I’m OVER this! I’ve even forgiven them, well kind of.
Why won’t it go away?
Then at around 3am, just to enhance the experience, my cats decided to play ‘Murder in the dark’.
Then the scariest thing of all suddenly hit me.
What if all of this is random? What if there is no meaning to any of it?
What if there is no God, or if there is, he/she doesn’t give a shit and we’re all just ants at his/her sandalled feet, seconds away from being trampled on?
Or maybe all of this navel gazing has accelerated all of my bad karma, and 2014 is my Chinese Year of the Vengeful Payback Dragon from HELL?
I fell back into an uneasy, but thankfully dreamless sleep, woke at 10am bruised, sore and absolutely exhausted and staggered out to the kitchen with my sunglasses on to feed the cats and put the kettle on.
Then when I took them off and open the curtains, I realised that the agony had stopped.
And I was grateful.
But as far as figuring everything out, I don’t want to think about anything today.
This is the support I get, God, for taking a leap of faith and trying to get back on my feet? I get sabotaged?
I doubt you exist anyway, I might as well be trying to communicate with El-ahrairah, the Singing Ringing Tree or the Man in the frigging Moon, and if you do exist, you’re a mean, cruel arse and I’m not talking to you.
Right now, all I believe in is the mug in my hand, the cats at my feet and the mattress under my bum. At least it hasn’t let me down.
But at least it’s here and I’m giving it the benefit of the doubt.