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Thursday, February 25, 2010

kaput

I am on the verge of burn-out. Thinking of things I have to do - housework, teaching, preparation work for my lessons, my volunteer work at Ubi Kuching Project, prospecting for suitable new tenants for my spare room - I feel like a really old car that makes weird noises when it starts up, if at all. And not a cute Mini either, more like a van that is nearing the scrap heap.

I don't even have the energy to write. I just want to sleep into oblivion and never wake up, or disappear into a lakeside hut in the outskirts of Thailand. I want to cry but I am dry. I have no way of coping anymore now that I don't drink alone and can't.

And being broke makes it worse; I cannot make myself richer without working more but I cannot work more because I already cannot handle the current load, like a washing machine already stuffed beyond its brim.

Hanging on tethers, soon to be singular, and as in the law of physics, every tether that breaks makes it easier to break the following one. Snap. Snap. Snapsnapsnap. I am dying inside.

Medication to cope? Yes that is crucial. For the whole re-tuning of my mindset. But right now, I don't think my brain can be boosted beyond capacity. Milestones need to be signposts along the way, not a flagpole on the moon. I feel more somnolent when I remember to take my meds, more on edge and on the brink when I forget. Between the devil and the deep blue sea I would rather be neither.

I want to melt away into a reservoir of tears that I cannot cry.