Away, you wretched world of tethers

I have the kind of brain that never ever turns off. And one of the consequuences of that is that very often, like tonight, I'll overthink something so much that I just can't get to sleep. I've been mulling something over - it's not major, I don't think - but it was enough to lodge itself in my brain and grab hold of me. Like so many, I've been working remotely from home, and while for some it may be a good thing, it may be a blessing.... it's not for me. There are many reasons why, none of which I wish to go into here, not right now, maybe not ever. But it's been really not good for me. It's not helped me at all, not one bit. I have a good friend, Carla - she's a psychologist. I think it was her who told me, a long time ago, that if I remain in the place that made me ill in the first place, I'd never fully heal. I have no other choice, though.
So today I was talking with the higher-ups at work - people for whom I have a lot of respect, and who've always been kind to me - and there was a thing there... I'd made a tactical decision of not logging in to Skype at work because I'd never get anything done otherwise. And I was asked to start logging in from now on. Fair enough. It's not a big deal, I can set my state to 'do not disturb' or whatever.
I was also told that because I wasn't logged in, they'd not really know if I was working or on holiday. It was nothing, we all laughed about it, but on the inside I was telling myself 'I'm not on holiday, I'm in hell'. And I wanted to say that, I wanted to tell them how my mind's been deteriorating, I wanted to tell them how destroyed I feel. I think I already knew this on some level, but I realized I couldn't discuss my mental health with my employers because ultimately... I'm just another cog in the great machine, and when a cog goes bad, you can easily replace it. So I force a smile, I throw a laugh.
I'm dying inside, but I mustn't let it show.

I've been trying to get better, and a few weeks ago I actually had like a good week and a half, where I did some 10k strolls, I ate better, no junk food, nor fizzy drinks, until the day I went shopping and it was hot and I decided I deserved a cold beer and that turned into a six-pack, a bag of chips and a bottle of coke. I failed myself once more.
I have a vision of me - this ideal vision of a me where I feel really good with myself, and that's the me that existed until 2016. I've been trying to get this guy back, I know what can be in store for him. I just don't know how... not anymore.

These thoughts always bring to my mind this amazing poem by Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib :

When I Say That Loving Me Is Kind Of Like Being A Chicago Bulls Fan

what I mean is that my father can tell a bunch of cool stories about back in the day when I was truly great. there is a mountain of gold that has gathered dust in the corner where I used to sleep, and look at all of these pictures. in this one, I am wearing rainbow shorts and hurling rocks at a shoreline. in this one, I am smiling in the glow of 13 lit candles pushed into a sheet of dark sugar. you may ask why I allow my face to drown in less and less joy with each passing year and I will say I just woke up one day and I was a still photo in everyone else’s home but my own. or I will say I promise that my legs just need another season, and then I will be who you fell in love with again. and then I will probably just say I’m sorry that there was once a tremendous blue sky and then a decade of hard, incessant rain.