Keeping going

I’m not sure if I can keep going.

I’m not sure I want to keep going.

That’s what my head is telling me.

It’s all bullshit, everything is bullshit.

I don’t want to have to keep fighting my demons.

I don’t have the strength to keep fighting my demons.

I have to keep fighting my demons.

I don’t want to live like this.

I don’t want to die.

Maybe everything will just fade away.

Maybe I will fade away.

I want to live.

I don’t want to fade away.

I want spring to come.

I need spring to come.

I just want all the crap in my head to go away.

Maybe if I scream.

Maybe if I shout.

I just want it all to stop.

Still feeling low

I haven’t written for a while, haven’t been on Twitter much, deactivated my Facebook account and then reactivated it, gonna switch it off again.  Not much in the mood for communication, but then I never have been good at that.

Been back to doctors a couple of times, started taking Citalopram again on top of the Mirtazipine, that didn’t help much so he doubled the dose, still waiting to see if it helps.  GP told me if I don’t improve over the next couple of weeks then he will refer me to see a psychiatrist, bit of a daunting thought but I know I need to do something.    I’ve not had any “episodes” like I used to, I’ve not lost control completely, although I have come close once or twice.

Once or twice over the past week I’ve felt those dark thoughts again, the ones that tell me I would be better off if I wasn’t here, I feel like I want to fade away.   I know now that all the shit I carry is never going away, I’ve tried to fight it off, told myself that I can’t change all that happened, I can’t undo any of it, that my life is so much better now, that I’ve come so far, but that’s all just shit, the crap is still there, it will always be there, my life is forever changed and nothing I can do will ever make it better.

I have so many regrets, so many choices I’ve made were the wrong ones, so much shame and guilt.  I really don’t know if I can carry on fighting.

Where am I now?

Twelve months ago today I carried a bag full of pills into a park, I didn’t intend to go home. Today I feel down, yesterday I felt down, and the day before, tomorrow I expect I will feel the same.

I went to my doctor last week and he gave me some new tablets to take, so I now take two types of antidepressant, how depressing.   I’m feeling a little bit like “why am I bothering?”.  The cycle is just gonna keep going around, I’ll feel a bit better, distract myself with whatever, but then I will always come back round to just how much of a balls-up my life is.

I deserve all I get, I have made so many mistakes.  At what point do you have to stop calling them mistakes ?, the choices were mine to make and I made the wrong ones, so are they really mistakes ?   Hopefully now I will stop making bad choices and not fuck up my life any more than I already have.

I do however need to face the consequences of my actions, and I know now that this cycle of depression, and anxiety, is going to continue.  I don’t think there will ever come a point where I will find peace. 

My anxiety is sky high right now, I have so much going on in my head, fear of the past, fear of the future, a sense a dread is still with me all the time right now. I’m stressed about everything, absolutely everything is winding me up, even the smallest things seem huge.

I’m waffling, I know that, but I need to waffle right now. I have such a mess in my head I need to put some of it into words.

I’m not sure where to go from here, part of me wants to go to sleep and just not wake up tomorrow, that would be so much easier. But no, I don’t want to hurt myself, not like before, I’m not putting packets of tablets in a carrier bag or any of the other things I did. I don’t want to get to that point, I’m just scared that point is not so hard to get to.


Ralph (our dog) has a terrible fear of fireworks. We use the TV to mask the sound, and distraction to keep him from noticing them, sometimes it works but sometimes not.

As I write this I’m laying in bed, Ralph isn’t on the bed beside me, nor is he in the living room with B. Normally by now he’d be lying under the duvet, pressed tight against me – no lectures about dogs in beds please, without him I wouldn’t be here – but tonight he’s on the floor beside the bed, just staring out the door, staring at nothing.

We’ve done really well this bonfire night season, living in a small village we don’t get an awful lot of fireworks, and those there have been passed by pretty much unnoticed. But then there we just a few bangs and now there he is, he doesn’t even know what he’s afraid of….but then neither do I.

Is my sense of impending catastrophe irrational?, well I guess it may be, but no more so than Ralph’s fear of those loud noises, and lets be honest, fireworks are actually bloody dangerous things.


I’m sliding, downwards.

I can feel it, it’s been bubbling somewhere down inside me for a while now. It’s not drugs, neither the cause nor the solution, I know drugs won’t make me feel better, who am I kidding, a shot of meth would make me feel fantastic but then I’d definitely slide right back where I was. Continue reading “Sliding”