I’ve not been doing especially well recently. I’ve been much worse in the past but a testament to my current state manifested yesterday afternoon in my parents’ kitchen. I’ve been very wobbly of late and it’s disconcerting – yesterday I was shaky most of day and well into the evening. It’s hard to describe, a bodily tremor that is visible in my hands, if you’re looking or particularly observant and mostly not very obvious in the rest of my body but is still there. I can feel it particularly in my legs, and it makes me feel unsteady on my feet, even if in reality they’re alright. I don’t think most people can see it but of course I am acutely aware, and besides feeling a bit embarrassed, the main problem is that it can make my whole body feel wobbly, clumsy, and weak.

There are different levels to which this wobbliness occurs, slightly dependent on my food intake and management of my medication at that point. Partly owing to these things, my sense of steadiness can change significantly in a short amount of time. At the moment I’ve not been very good at eating regularly throughout the day, and only realise I haven’t eaten much (or at all) when I notice physical symptoms.

Yesterday, it was beginning to get dark by the time I realised I needed to eat, so probably around 5pm. I will usually graze through the day, having bits and pieces of whatever is to hand in the cupboards or fridge. At my mum’s there aren’t really many things to graze on anymore, so there have been times of not eating much in the day.

I went to the fridge looking for something to eat and had settled on a bit of cheese, when my dad called a joke through from the living room ‘You’re not in the kitchen are you? God I don’t know. Dear-oh-dear. I’ve just cleaned that.’ It was true. He’d just put the washing up away, wiped the surfaces and swept the floor. He wasn’t really having a go, he was pulling my leg, but I felt guilty nevertheless. I started crying because I felt like I was in trouble and hurriedly put things away. My mother came in and seeing I was upset, reminded me he was joking. I knew of course, but I was evidently feeling more sensitive than I or anyone else thought.

I am 31 years old and most of the time would laugh and tell my father to bugger off, but in that moment I was a meek child. I dislike feeling that way and reacting as such, but whilst I may hold it together in more public or professional domains, at home and with my parents’ my emotions express themselves more freely. My mum defrosted me a bread roll whilst I got myself some cheese and a pear, and then I wiped everything up as if I’d never been there.

Even though he was only joking and I went to see my dad for a few minutes after, I still behaved as if he hadn’t been, which is strange, on reflection.