My time in isolation

Entry 1

Finally, some time to myself. Time away from the societal pressures that plague my everyday existence. Time for me. Time to improve my diet, my mind and physical form in my self confinement. I lost my job today but it's okay. I no longer have to deal with the plethora of bumbling braindead oafs who mask themselves as customers on a daily basis. I can finally take a break from the neverending need to appear presentable and likeable to those I secretly abhor. I can finally put to rest, if even for a moment, the fake smile I paint on like a French ballerina - in constant pain but pushing through to embody the facade.

They say everything happens for a reason. I'm hoping the real reason for this unexpected break is to allow myself to heal. To think. To sleep. Unfortunately, I cannot remember the last time rest was awarded to me effortlessly. Perhaps if I can focus on new ways to rest, everything else will fall into line. 

I have never been the kind to recount my inner thoughts and feelings, despite recommendation from friends, family and so-called professionals. My stubborn self always pushed the task aside for another day, if ever. Alas, today is the day I have finally decided to bring my fingers to the keyboard, like pen to paper. I am intrigued to see if this calms the chaotic party of demons that are the inner workings of my head and heart. 

Entry 2

Late at night my friends drink wine or whiskey and write or paint or sew. On my lonesome, I either drink, overeat and pass out eventually or sit and feel sorry for myself with my own brooding thoughts. Such times are usually accompanied by bittersweet music or mindless scrolling through applications on a screen. Sleep does not easily grace my presence in the dark of night. This may be due to my superstitions about the supernatural or perhaps my inner demons are to blame. Nevertheless, the devil’s hour or witching hour has never been a time for sleep. I either stay awake through it or hide under the covers if I awake during it. The light is usually my best friend and only form of solace through these times. I often dread the moment I see the light fading to darkness outside my window. With nothing but my own myriad of thoughts to distract me, I aliken darkness to all that is bad and unwell in the world. I find peace in the early hours of the morning when the first rays of light gently caress the walls of my room. It is at this time I know it is safe to close my eyes, wrapped in the golden light of dawn.

Entry 3

Food has never been my friend. Sleep evades me with thoughts of my food struggles daily. I want to eat healthy but I’m always craving sweets or something deep fried. I want to stay slim but I don’t want to exercise. I want to eat everything but don’t want to get fat. Kate Moss once famously said “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”. This quote plagues me. Body dysmorphia encompasses my being. I cannot go an hour without thinking of how to restrict my diet or plan my next binge. Such planning keeps me awake at all hours. Which ingredients to purchase, what new recipes to try, the stores from which to buy. Isolation was supposed to allow me to curb such habits. Meal planning, drinking more water, daily exercise and meditation.My fears were realised when the bad habits became worse. “Maybe I’ll start afresh tomorrow”... famous last words. Today is always yesterday’s tomorrow. 

Entry 4

My grandfather’s funeral was today. I knew he was to pass away, it has been a long awaited departure. He suffered through all ailments over the last 20 years from heart attacks to blindness and broken bones but what finally expired him was pneumonia. I’m happy he’s finally with my grandma in a better place but sad I couldn’t be there to say goodbye and support my mum through this tough time. I cannot sleep because I feel guilty for not being present at the funeral. Despite being oceans away, I was able to watch my family say their goodbyes via live stream. I remained strong for the full service until the very last moment when they carried the casket away. I realised this was the last moment I’d ever see my grandpa, even with the box lid closed. It was then that tears poured from my heart and down my face. I’d never again see the man who used to dance with me around the living room to Walkin my Baby Back Home in his earlier years, or the man I helped care for with my family in his later years. It’s hard being alone in such sad times.

Entry 5

Motivation is lost. What purpose do I have to exist anymore? “What are you planning next?” they say. Their guess is as good as mine. What a question to ask at such a dismal time. All my plans for the foreseeable future have just been cancelled. The uncertainty of my life sends my mind into an active whir every night. I say sleep is for the weak and people laugh. Little do they know I’m talking of myself. Little do people see I’m crumbled inside. I’ve no plans for my future. Until recently, all my life plans ended in the coming months. Now my future has been wiped clean, so I’m at a loss. My only close friend in this small town told me to administer professional guidance. I agree with her to a point. The point being I don’t enjoy the thought of confiding my inner demons to strangers who judge even when they say they don’t. I mean well, I really do. I just can’t seem to jump off the mental merry-go-round that spins ever faster, fueled by each and every negative thought. I long for rest but it will not grace me this night. Perhaps I’ll rest again  with the first rays of dawn.

By Riley Aston.