Alright, this might be a long one. Partly brought on by my desire to not move much right now as I’ve somehow hurt a muscle near my pelvic bone and I really, REALLY don’t want to be moving around all that much right now. But I’m up and awake and I’m near work, so…

anyway…

About two weeks ago I was at home. Was going to head into the office, ended up not as was pretty wrecked (can’t remember why). But as I was umming and ahhing, I saw an email from a psychologist service about the couple’s therapy booking I’d made and cancelled around six months prior. It was addressed to both my ex and I (as is the way of these things); it noted that the appointment had been cancelled, and it said something about how the service hoped we were able to work through our issues. Hard stuff so far. It then went on to say something along the lines of “If you are still having issues or want to talk about something else…” and I can’t remember the rest specifically as I’d saved a screenshot and have forgotten about it a bit, which is great, but essentially it was the business offering its services. And it was just really fucked.

So naturally I started spiraling hard from there. Went through a real roller coaster, sunk down. Beat myself into submission, you know. Started writing a suicide note because it was all too much.

Once more I was looking for work, hoping to not be unemployed. Once more I was in a living situation I did not find ideal or desirable. Once more I was being reminded of something I was working on moving away from. And then I did the stupid thing of checking social media to find that my ex had gone private in some spaces, and that sunk me further, and everything was too much and I couldn’t cope anymore.

So I wrote my suicide note, or rather a draft, and I looked over it and I felt it was really guilting, and I didn’t want anyone to blame themselves for my decision because it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was my choice, and I was certain in my choice because, after many years of struggling and occasional relief followed by more struggling, I couldn’t do it anymore. But I didn’t want my friends and family and my ex to blame themselves, so I had to edit what I’d written. I wasn’t sure how to, but I knew I had to, and the more I did the more my decision faded away.

I went for a walk. Called Ewe, spoke to him about it. Talked a bit, and by the end of it all, I was okay. Not out of the woods, necessarily, but okay. But I felt like shit and I had to go to an exhibition launch as I was exhibiting for the first time in my life. And I forced myself to.

So I went and a bunch of people I told weren’t able to make it, which was okay, but it hurt me more. I wasn’t blaming them; I just wanted some familiarity there. But the photos I submitted looked good, and I was able to spend a good deal of time looking at the other artworks. But I was lonely and sunken.

I went to the bathroom early on, and on the back of the toilet door was a photo of a monk that, as far as I’m aware, was praying. And it was odd and a bit intense. Sent it to Ewe, he said it felt intense, we joked, but it was just odd. Humorous, but odd. But not unwelcome. And I kept going to the bathroom throughout the event as I had to keep using the toilet and get breathing space. So I had some silence, but I had this monk praying at me whilst I was pissing.

Eventually I went to leave and I found out someone was asking after me. I wanted to leave, but instead I decided to hang and speak to the person. They too are a photographer and they liked one of my photos a lot, which was one of the ones I like the most, and we talked a bit about photography and photographing gigs. Did the Instagram exchange and then I left.

I had to get to Newtown to photograph a friend’s band. I told the friend I would, and at this point I wasn’t feeling too great about it. Speaking to the photographer helped a bit and I was getting a bit lighter, but not seeing people I knew at the event didn’t help, because I think at that point I just wanted to be distracted and held. But I went on.

Told my friend about stuff, got to photographing, left when the gig ended. Headed on home.

I was feeling less shit the following day, but still pretty rough. I was off my foot due to the random injury, but I was getting on with things. But I wasn’t great. Just getting through the day.

Come the afternoon I got a call from USYD HR. Told my application for a role wasn’t proceeding, but this was fine. It wasn’t proceeding as the team I applied to was withdrawing the role due to not much time before the person being covered would return. They thought I was a strong candidate, and if another role comes up with the team, I might just be able to skip the application process. I was happy with that.

About thirty seconds after the call I received another to get my reference checks for another role… which is the one I commenced yesterday. Another temporary one, but it’s more time.

Among all of this I started seeing someone. We’re interested in each other, but we’re not interested so much in being in a relationship, and that’s fine. We’re just having this casual thing going on, and talking, and it’s great. I mention this as the exhibition ended with an artist talk last weekend and they came along, and it was just nice. I gave a talk that wasn’t as succinct as I’d have liked, but went over well, and they met some of my friends and we hung out some more, and it has been a good time. It has been a nice time.

And now I’m here at work after starting this yesterday. I’m at lunch and things feel okay. Things feel like they will be okay, and I like this. So much is uncertain, but I’m relaxed. I’m kicking on. I’m not assuming that I’m out of the woods, but right now this is a good place to be.