Kelham Island with work lot, met them after my shift ended at 10. They were getting trollied, the first bar was warm and close and good, but by the Irish bar on West Street I had spiders down the spine, got an Uber home by myself, sober, lonely, came back to my PC and a cup of Earl Grey.
Social anxiety was spiking. Bars at midnight are not made for sobriety, everyone losing themselves in a rush into something, me stood on the outside, cold. And I’ve been feeling icky and weird of late. Christmas is really taking it out of me, every shift at work is horrendous, and I don’t have any time to give to writing, and I feel stretched so thin, my mental health is suffering.
Ung, not a good day. Remember all the things. Remind myself of all the things. I never learn. It never goes in. Nothing changes. No. That’s negative voices. Inner critic. He can fuck off.
Keep going. Final hurdle, and then four days off for Christmas, and then January will be quiet. I can make it.
……
Music: Night Shift, by Lucy Dacus. I like it when the fuzz guitar kicks in.
You can do it
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