Well, it finally happened:
I burst into tears this morning in public -- right there on the street in Soho walking to work from Piccadilly Circus. Kept on sobbing at work as well & locked myself in the loo for a bit.
I am overwhelmed by worries about my visa expiring and where I will be in 60 days.
[My stressful state is more than a bit compounded by the more immediate misery at home. My new flat in Wood Green has no useable shower and that is generally ruining my day before it starts. Add to that: bad lighting, difficulty shaving, 'bathroom schedule' conflicts ... and my stress level reaches its peak each day before I even leave the flat.]
It's all just a bit more than I can handle.
One of the great ironies is that my job is the best part of my life right now -- and even that is temporary (not to mention illegal).
To be a bit lofty & poetic, life's joys have slowly been chipped away bit by bit over the last two years till there are nearly none left. I put on a brave face that seems to fool most everyone (of those not already driven away by my "complicated life").
I guess I feel under attack and alone in the fight.
Fair statement, I think.
Richard of London ©
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