Does doubting I can do something mean I don’t want to do it? Does not wanting to do something that could help but that I hate mean I don’t want to get better? Does lacking constant positivity mean I’m choosing not to have it because deep inside I don’t want it? Is everything a struggle simply because I see it as such?

My enthusiasm for fatigue has diminished because I’m too tired to maintain it. I feel like a phoenix that’s been permanently burned by it’s own fire.

It’s adolesence all over again: I’m not marching to the beat of a different drum. I just have a bad attitude about marching. Too old to rely on my youth, too young to rely on my past. The things and people that matter to me are better off when I don’t care about what matters to the world at large.

During my session today it was pointed out that I’m dismissive of my progress and that I favour focusing negatively on what I can’t do anymore.

And of course now there’s a call somewhere out front, the red and blue lights dancing across the dark backyards as the siren announces arrival. I’m not in the alley. Not in the alley. I’m sitting in my yard writing, drinking tea and vaping. Reality check. No alley. No.

My brain is determined to be elsewhere now. No. Beneath the angry cynicism is a genuine desire to overcome the cause. Not giving up isn’t black and white. It’s messy, elating, shitty, uplifting, exhausting. Rewarding. The point was made that I’m dismissive of my progress, and maybe I am but I still keep showing up and trying so it is having an impact. I’m learning how to believe in myself. That’s all.