Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day)

I am ready
I am ready
I am ready, I am

COunting Crows- Colourblind.

I am giving up: Chocolate, crisps, sweets, biscuits and my filthy new habit (smoking). These are all the usual things I quit. I am embracing: university life. Today, I spoke to my sister. I filled her in on the craziness of my life, and vice versa. She reminded me that Pancake Day is time to go crazy, so I bought chocolate and vodka… and guess what? I feel guilty. The chocolate is making me nauseous. The thought of the calories is bringing me almost to tears. Sometimes I still look in the mirror and feel sick, and this tells me that a pre-Lent binge will only make me sadder.

I haven’t written my PhD proposal. It hangs over me like a rotting willow. I juggle with myself- will I apply, or won’t I? Do I want to stay here, or don’t I? And the answers are: yes; maybe. I feel like crying. When I try to express my stress I just keep being told not to stress. When I say I have fucked up, I keep being told it’s not too late. When I say I’m too late, I just get told that I haven’t fucked up.

All this comforting makes me sad, and tired. Inside I feel very sad and tearful and I don’t know why. It isn’t depression. It’s the feeling I get when I look out of an aeroplane window at night. Something warm and spherical and half-warm, like tears the second before they fall. I’m not trying to be word-pretty- that’s the closest I can come to an accurate description.

But. As I remind myself now and then, this blog is meant to embrace the positive, not sob over the spilt milk of the negative. I don’t even like milk.

So, I am going to write a proposal, however sketchy, and I will put more effort into my dissertation proposal than this one, so I never feel like this again. ‘Til next time. And I will get all my reading done for Friday, and use Reading Week to catch up on the reading I lost when I was ill. And I will use Lent to force myself to do the things I sometimes feel I can’t. I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself, except when it’s reasonable. I will go to alcohol counselling and try to listen and not storm out, or pretend I am fine. (I wake up in cold sweats, I see things, I have beer for breakfast, this is not fine).

When these things are acheived, I will be a better friend to the people I’ve left behind/ wrapped myself away from. I’ll be kinder. Softer.

To be honest, what with being a lezzer, and a self-harmer, and a taker-of-the-Lord’s-name-in-vain, and a mocker of the ex-Pope (he’s being accused of Benedict fraud- hahahah), I am not really a very good Catholic. Jesus probably doesn’t want me for a sunbeam and oops, I did it again.

But I always see Lent as a chance to test my willpower and ultimately, to be a better person.

Even if it only lasts six weeks.


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