…I’m wondering what possessed me to want to write a fracking Dissertation. What’s so good about a dissertation anyway?
Jeeze.
I *know* it’s important, I *know* that the area I’m looking at is important, but right at this fracking moment, I feel sick as a dog and I’ve got 398 really iffy words that I’m not exactly 100% happy with of a 1000 word segment that should be piss easy to write. I can’t find the words, I can’t get into it, I just feel sick and tired and stressed. I can’t take time off because I can’t afford it. At least I’ve rung my placement, but I’ve not yet spoken to the chap I need to speak to.
Why did I do this to myself? I had a nice high paying job in a nice safe cuddly IT environment. Yes, I was miserable, but I was highly paid and miserable; I wasn’t stressed-to-fuck and tired and really wanting to scream and cry. And for the first time in ages my horrid Stress Related Disorder reared it’s ugly head and I got to spend a happy 30 minutes in the bathroom. Now is like the *worst* point in my life to be single, because right now I just need cuddles and a hot cup of something and… just to be looked after while I try to get my head in gear.
Anyone want to write a dissertation on Gay and Lesbian Patient Experience? I can’t even find 8 fracking *papers* on the subject. I keep looking at my calendar now daubed in highlighter in a fit of ‘maybe if I can look at it I can plan things’ but right about now, it’s all a bit scary. Very scary.
Normally stress gets me going, gets me into a space in my head where I can work, but at the moment (to quote a film) “Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.” Which seems pretty apt.
