When my mental health took such a turn in March, I thought that by the end of summer, I’d be getting better. My garden would be beautiful and my completed crafts would be stacking up filling my little heart with joy.
And I have had some days where I’ve been brighter. I allowed myself to feel I was turning a corner. That my mental health was on the rise.
I went to bed last night wanting to be motivated for today. To start ticking things off the ever-growing to-do list.
But thats not how today is going.
I’ve woken up in a black cloud.
My mood is foul.
I’m stuck in limbo and nothing seems to have changed.
The thoughts of self-hatred still linger, telling me that I don’t deserve to get better. That going to the darkness is preferable if this is how life will forever be. That I’m just a burden to those I love.
They’d be happier without this lump, that constantly sits on the sofa feeling sorry for herself, not moving, not taking part in life.
The days are ticking away faster and faster and I cant slow them down. But without help, without closure, I cannot bring myself through to a lighter life.
Last week I learnt that both my kids had officially got into Uni. And I’m so excited for them. And so unbelievably proud. But damn I will miss them.
I wanted to do so many things with them before they left, but the finances of being off sick, and a badly twisted ankle means that all of this is cancelled.
Even our annual Halloween shopping trip is a no-go. Its been a tradition for the last few years.
My husband took me into the village today to buy a cake for lunch to treat myself. Walking on the uneven paths, despite my boot and crutches, just reminded me how far away from healing I am.
And also made me face the reality that I may not be well enough to drive my kids to their accommodation in a couple of weeks. Just one more way I feel I’m letting them down.
And I know I sit here moaning all of the time, but depression can make you very selfish. Its hard to look past anything else when trying to get through each day feels so impossibly hard.
I wish I wasn’t so tired. I wish recovery was a straight line. With a deadline of when this would end, where things became easier again. And life felt worth living.