Saturday. I walked 8.5 miles, because that was how much I could manage today. I worked up a sweat, drank water, and my skin looks slightly better for being a bit flushed. I am taking a lot of self-portraits on my phone so I can monitor my condition. I look tired and anxious but I also look slightly better than I did about 10 days ago, my face was as pale and doughy as uncooked pastry and my hair was grey.
We are on Day 11 of the happy pills. Apparently they take weeks to kick in properly but I can’t look that far ahead so I am just focusing on whatever day it happens to be, and this is Day 11. I am heavily sedated. I don’t mind this in itself but it does make it quite difficult to find the energy and the will to get things done. My walk today was more of a plod than a march (one thing I like about walking is that you can’t really fail at it, the distance travelled is the same whether you do it fast or slow). I feel very unattractive, but I realise that I look normal and am not actually the oldest, ugliest and most overweight person in all London, I know this because I checked when I was out walking earlier. I am quite close to tears today and there hasn’t been a day that I can remember since the Crime that I haven’t felt unhappy or unwell or both, so that’s kind of normal. What does give me hope is that there was a flicker of happiness in the dark, cavernous hollow of my brain when I was blogging last night. For a few minutes I felt something that I recognised as enthusiasm, one of the raw ingredients of joie de vivre. It was a small, blue flame that extinguished itself almost immediately, but it was there. It did happen. Trying to rediscover the secret of joy is like trying to light a match in the wind and rain. That almost worked, for a minute. If we keep trying then at some point in the near future it will properly catch light and then we are back in business.
I am trying to think about where and how I can get my emotional needs met, in the absence of the Honcho. It is quite a tricky one. I’m clearly not available for a normal relationship and now I have no sex drive as well so I’m not sure what’s left in terms of what I’m offering and what I can ask for and expect to get. I like being in love. It gives me a kick, puts a sparkle in my eye and makes me go to the gym. I don’t know. I dare say I will think of something.
I am weighing myself daily and my weight is hovering around 147 pounds, which is about 14 more pounds than it should be but also not a total disaster. It will come off. All in good time. Patience, discipline.
1 Health point.