Fuck it. I’m having a really bad day today.
The depression almost goes away sometimes, then it’s back with a bloody great big crash. It seems to be when things are going OK too, which is so annoying. I shouldn’t even be writing this as I’m at work, but my mind is all over the place. I’m still functioning well and have made some proper decisions this morning, but my stomach is churning, my hands are shaking and I just want to curl up in a ball and go to bed.
I can’t show any of that here as any sign of weakness just cannot happen at work. I’m dreading going home cos I hate it there and the only person I can tell any of this to is this stupid blog.
And then other things happen that just make my brain explode, like seeing pictures that remind me of something wonderful, but knowing deep down that it will never happen again, even though I cling on to a microscopic thread of hope that lurks in the back of the turmoil that is my mind.
I’m decorating again tonight and I know I have to get out of there. But I’m so frightened – scared of telling her I want to go, scared of having everything to sort out, scared of being on my own (although I’m lonelier now than I ever could be on my own).
What is the point of it all?If I died tomorrow, there’s no-one to grieve. And it would probably be easier all round. M would get the insurance money and could keep her home; my friends would stop being bothered by me all the time; and I would be able to silence my pathetic brain.
Barbara Murray Art 