I went to bed far, far too late even without losing an hour from putting the clocks forward. It was mostly down to posting late at night and then procrastinating. I’ve mentioned before that I idly browse online when I feel lonely. This is not terribly helpful, because I can’t get the kind of contact I want/need, plus lately I’ve blocked a lot of sites for being too triggering, so there aren’t many places I can actually go (unless I switch the block off. Which I just did out of boredom/curiosity. Not good). Anyway, I spend ages flitting around the internet, not knowing where to go, often until I hit on something that upsets me (usually the news).
The upshot of this was that I overslept, and then was too depressed to get up. I did eventually get up and somehow got out the house and to my volunteering at the asylum seekers’ drop-in centre, albeit without davening (praying) first. I was very late for volunteering, but they were understaffed, so they were just grateful I was there. I spent the afternoon looking after the children in the play area, struggling to watch all of them at once because of a lack of other volunteers and trying to get the children to play together nicely. It’s hard to discipline other people’s children, especially when they don’t say anything and you can’t work out if they’re pre-verbal or just don’t speak English. I survived, but have come home completely exhausted. I somehow did a few minutes of Torah study on the bus home; I’m not sure that I will manage much more.
Just now I skipped over what happened at home between crawling out of bed this morning and getting to volunteering. I had lots of very self-critical thoughts. I felt tired of being the person no one can rely on at work, in my family, in my religious community or at volunteering. I wanted to burrow into the earth and get away. I actually crawled under my desk (I’m not entirely sure why; it seemed like a good idea at the time). I tried to cry but I had no tears, I just made sobbing noises. I told myself a lot of very harsh, self-critical things: “I’m a ******* waste of space. No one could love you, you’re ******* incompetent. You’re a ****** retard.” (Don’t ask why my inner monologue flips between the first and second person.)
I’m not sure what I can do when I feel like that. I think I only stopped because I went out to volunteering.
Pretty much anything in the news is triggering. I no longer know what to think about Brexit. I have a kind of mental tutorial essay on the history of Britain’s post-war involvement with Europe that gets triggered when anyone starts talking about Brexit, a commentary running from Churchill’s belief in European unity without Britain and Attlee’s negativity to de Gaulle’s “Non!” to Heath speaking bad French and Wilson’s referendum to Thatcher’s downfall, Major’s paralysis and now this. I think whether we had never gone in to the EU, or whether we had voted to Remain, the tensions would still be there, because they come from the fact that Britain is on Europe’s doorstep, but has a very different political system and history to most of Europe, which produces centrifugal and centripetal forces pulling the country in and out simultaneously. Whatever happens, the forces are still there; in or out, Europe is going to be a major issue in British politics for the foreseeable future.
I want to vent about Jew-hatred too, but I’m too scared. I just wrote a paragraph on this, but I deleted it. I’m too scared of being attacked. I hate being attacked by antisemites, because I know they’re wrong, but their hatred of me fits with my self-hatred, so the attacks don’t bounce off as they should. Then I spend hours/days obsessing over their hatred, even though the fault is with them not us; it is in fact antisemitic to suggest that Jews “provoke” antisemitism, just as it is misogynistic to say that women in short skirts are “provoking” sexual assault. I hate that I can’t speak about the hatred that is upsetting me for fear of provoking more of it. I hate that I still have to deal with this.
I wish I had the mental strength to do something productive to fight antisemitism and anti-Zionism, but I don’t have the mental stamina. I feel I have let my people down. I also wish I could turn off the pain and the obsessive, agitated thoughts that seeing this hatred causes me.
Happier things: I ordered some more Doctor Who miniatures to paint last night, partly a reward for getting through my job, partly because if I’m going to be unemployed again, it’s probably worthwhile having a non-screen-based hobby (i.e. not watching DVDs, blogging or working on my books). Just under £45 bought me twelve Daleks, Davros, the TARDIS and the thirteenth Doctor to paint, which should keep me busy for a while.