Things come alive at night. The sky becomes a vast blanket of fine dark velvet spotted with chinks of twinkling glitter. Sounds are muffled, I feel safe, my muscles slowly uncoil, breathing slows, contented, at ease. Now is the time to plot and plan, bucket lists that in the cold light of day get forgotten. Ideas clatter, ricocheting like a pinball machine, possibilities beckon.
The flattering glow from candles and table lamps soften sharp corners. I feel a confidence bubbling up inside, an excitement. I love this, the capacity to actually believe in myself. I cling on to this emotion, but no matter how hard I try the cold light of day begins leeching it away. I grab on to the blanket as it begins to change colour, the chinks of glitter fading into the chilly morning light. It enters through the gaps in the curtains, under the bedroom door, nowhere is safe.
An overwhelming panic, like a bereavement, that harsh brightness. If I stay still maybe it won't find me. A palm full of brightly coloured meds washed down with caffeine takes away the sting, but that black dog is still there, chained but waiting.
"Procrastination for me has been a problem for about 10 years. When I was diagnosed with OCD it all made sense. Indecision and setting goals that are out of reach, then berating myself for not achieving them.
'Night and Day' is about the goal setting process and how the fear of not achieving them makes me feel abnormal, not good enough, less of a person."