The reason I started this blog….

Posted on March 22, 2014


…was for the very headspace that I’m in right now.

I hate the way I feel so much.

My flatmate will tell me something about peppermint tea, and I register it whilst i’m doing the washing up, but am not able to say anything back as my head was caught up in the overwhelming feeling of how much I don’t want to be on this earth.

All it takes is one comment that sparks my paranoia, which happened earlier, and now i’m in a tailspin feeling like I’m unable to do things right. And when thinking about why that was, all I can come back with (to myself) is that i’m in a selfish headspace right now. I can’t even watch a movie with a friend. My attention span is zero. I get bored and frustrated too easily. I have a million and one things going on in head – from sheer panic that I’m not going to be able to deliver my work project, to feelings of certainty that I’m a failure and going to let everyone down, to then worrying overwhelmingly about how I’m going to fund myself the rest of my life when i’m clearly chronically depressed and can’t do anything properly.

I can’t even go on anti-depressants as that scares me too much.

Yet I can’t carry on with this feeling.

I’m presenting to the world an essence of happiness. ‘You seem so happy!’ said the ex-colleague last night who I used to look up to, the ‘together’ girl climbing the professional ladder, who had our bosses eating out the palm of her hand. I lost track of the times she would coach me out of tears when I was falling apart in our office broom cupboard.

‘Are you happy?’ I asked – the question I know better than to ask to anyone really.

Her grimace told me everything. I wanted to tell her I wasn’t too – but couldn’t bring myself to lower the mood. She seemed so pleased I was ‘happy’, why tell her anything else?

When I’ve been feeling down in the last 18 months I would turn to escapism. TV became my friend.

Now I don’t even want to watch TV.

I can’t relax.

I can’t concentrate on anything for more than 5 minutes.

I have tonnes of work to do – and I genuinely want to do it and occasionally feel fired up about it – but then when it comes to it, I really struggle.

Usually when I feel like this I know its time to exercise and meditate.

I shall exercise and meditate. I must conjour the energy to do both. I must.

I know better than anyone these feelings of despair can pass. Fleeting moments of end of the world desires that create momentary chest pains and feelings of hopelessness.

The truth is, I’m just getting a bit fucking fed up of it. I feel like i’m nearing a sense of actually wanting to give up. Teetering on the edge of it.

I don’t want to be the person who gets happy because she gets in a relationship.

I want to be at the very least ‘okay’ with interspersed happy moments, all by myself.

But I feel like if I stay alone, this will just get worse.

Posted in: The Truth