This morning I woke up and thought, "I am going to do it". Despite my slow puncture, I drove to Durham and then caught the train in to Newcastle. How very brave of me. How very like the old me before the breakdown. And then that is where it all ended. I wandered round the city centre for a couple of hours. I can't even say which shops I went in to. I know I didn't look at anything in any of them. I had lunch. I caught the train back to Durham and drove home.
I wanted to do it to prove to myself I could. I wanted to do it alone to prove I still had that strength in me. I couldn't do it. I don't have that strength. Instead of boosting my confidence, I now feel utterly useless. What's the point of me? I am too afraid to even attend an event that is meant to be fun and accepting of me.
I feel isolated...unpopular...unwanted. Maybe it is time I gave up. Maybe I should resign myself to a life without love, without companionship.
Harden your heart, Nidge, and close the shutters on the world outside.
What is this life, if full of fear,
We only wish to disappear?
