Hard Times

Hard times (not like the Dickens novel), sometimes its hard to get out of bed in the morning or pull the duvet from over your face. I'm not depressed my anxiety floods over sometimes when things build up, and sometimes the little things like getting dressed or eating become difficult. You turn the lamp on and your eyes sting from being too used to the darkness.

I've been under a lot of stress. But who isn't in this world of as Baudrillard would say hyperreality where women and men are forced to conform to ridiculous beauty standards that are just simulation but we Believe to be real. The edited images that are falser than fictional fairytales. It's easy to fall into the I'll do it later frame of mind and turn netflix on and escape into a fantasy world in order to escape our own.

If theres one thing I've learnt from studying fiction and performance for the last 2 years, its that our lives are fictional. The amount of different characters and roles we play within the space of a day is phenomenal. In uni you're a drunken student struggling to get by deadlines surviving on noodles, when you go home you're the loving daughter or son, when in your house or with flatmates you're their family. When you get on the bus you're playing the stranger looking angry and fierce throwing shade so that no one will sit next to you. And something we're so good at doing within a capitalist society is pointing the finger of blame and calling ourselves the "vitcims".

What I'm trying to say in this rambling post is that its hard to plan life no matter how many notes you make on a calendar or in your diary or writing things on a wall planner. I've said it before life is messy and gets in the way and sometimes these factors are out of our control. Whether that be fate, destiny or whatever god or deity or celebrity you believe in. You're not a fortune teller and can't predict the future so live in the now and worry about tomorrow when it comes. I've had enough of saying I'll do it tomorrow, because what if tomorrow never comes and I'm 6 feet under before I've managed to write my English essay.

Anyway dealing with dyslexia for me means that I have to plan things in advance and do things way ahead of others and edit and plan and rinse and repeat. I spend that much time fretting about assessments I forget myself and my duties to the role of a daughter, friend, girlfriend, flatmate and just plain me. Things get in the way and its damn hard to keep things in track when we're all more than two faced.

Academia is I guess my talent and I'm passionate about it I'm good at research and I genuinely enjoy it. To me doing well in university isn't a goal or dream its a reality, not some fictional fairytale I day dreamed of in high school. I get lost in my own little hyperreality of criticism and texts and I forget my duty to others due to the different roles I play. I may suck as a daughter friend or whatever due to this and for that I apologise. But currently it feels like I'm paying £9,000 a year for stress.

Thanks for reading my rambling,
Bekka x