current

Apologies for the very personal post. There's a lot of 'I's because I write about the situation I am in. 

A few months ago I left my long term job in a foreign country. I did this for a number of reasons. Pollution, political instability, greater stress, and a sense that my focus and ability was in decline. I think it was a sound choice, as the longer I was there, the more ill I was. 

I am now back at home. I am in my late thirties, living with my parents. We have a better relationship than before, and we - fortunately - do not need to worry about many issues. It is calming. My mental and physical health has been much better than since I can remember.  I've been reconnecting to people important to me - most of which were positive and re-affirming (with one exception that seems to have found my words and intentions twisted in bad faith or because of something with them) - and had a clearer sense of self, of what I've done, and better relationships with people. 

And yet I have terrible insomnia and an anxiety that interrupts my poor sleep. I find myself endlessly on edge, with heightened sensations for long hours, exhausting me. I get headaches and ringing ears and tiredness. I can do small tasks and keep a routine of walking and exercise that keeps me well, but I feel like I am in such a swamp.  My mind keeps spiralling - with physical side effects like keeling over crying - into such self-negating bleakness. I know I shouldn't, and I keep knowing that what and where my mind goes is not true, but it keeps going there. I am in the position I wanted to be - where I have free time to relax, spend time with my parents and finally enjoy their company, and think and plan what I want to do next. The future though scares me: I can't imagine anything. A complete blank. I used to have all sorts of ideas and drives and motivation, but it's nothing. The future seems like a large empty room that will be a tiring struggle to get across. I look back at what I've done, and I was getting a sense of contentment, and a sense of I actually managed to do this and this despite limitations - and it just sinks into oblivion. I feel like nothing, and worse, that I have wasted so much time and there is no more time to do anything in the large white room. People in passing say they are envious of the position I am in, say that I can now choose to do what I want to do, and that the world is my oyster, but I have this perpetual sense of horror, this fear of doing anything, and this endless sense of my body and mind being tirelessly tiresomely on high alert.