I’m doing well I suppose,

I remember worse times, the worst,

Running on empty vessels as all the blood went to my brain, and my heart and made me a-buzz with fear and haste and agitation for months.

When I stood shaking in the shower, feeling odd in my own body, feeling strange behind the glassy plastic.

Shower (the strain of the mundane)

I’m sat on the shower floor, watching Peep Show through the glass.

My breath and the steam misting the panel.

I’m glad I don’t have to rush.

People are out.

Periodically the water goes cold,

Not freezing, just cold enough to be uncomfortable.

I wait it out.

When it’s hot again I feel blessed.

My hair goes from brown to black in the water – curls fight against the water’s weight.

I’m exhausted when I get out.

I lie on the bed in my towel – aching.

The labour of pulling a comb through curls combines with that need to distract myself from tiring thoughts.

That, in itself, is tiring.

I’m wiped out but I did something today and so I feel accomplished.

In a minute, when I’ve come round I’ll eat something-

Then I’ll have done something else.

I’ve learnt that struggling is normal, and I’m glad for that.

It helps me come to terms with my life sometimes.

And I will improve, I’ve improved so much already.