I’m a creature of habit. I don’t like being taken outside my comfort zone which at the moment is my room in the hospital. I just went out for an outing with my folks who I haven’t seen for almost a week. I was only with them for just over an hour and all I wanted to do was come back to the hospital, get some caffeine into me, have a cigarette, put my feet up and write a blog or two. I’m the same at home. I find it difficult to build the motivation to even walk the dog around the block. Things as simple as showering can be put on the back burner. I spend all of my time in my bedroom doing the things that make me happy. What does it matter what people do as long as it brings a certain amount of satisfaction. Weather this is through your work, exercise, playing golf or watching content on the computer while locked in your room. What does it matter?
My whole family works. My mum and little sister are both nurses and my Dad and younger brother are both chippies. I’m on a pension! I’m the let down of the family but this couldn’t/can’t be helped. They don’t suffer crippling mental health issues. I sometimes wonder if my brother has some underlying issues but being the way he is he would never admit this or get help for it. My sister was medicated when she was younger but no longer takes med’s. I have extended family who have different mental illnesses. I runs in the family. I just happens that my conditions seem to be more debilitating and screws with my life in a greater manner.
I’m falling off topic. My writing can be disconnected just the same as my thought process. What I was basically trying to say is my family keeps busy. They all have interests and friends outside of work too. In their eyes I’m wasting my life but as long as I don’t feel this way… whats the harm!?