(Part 1)

Living in the middle of nowhere, with no friends living close by, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the events of the past few months.  I’m not decided if this is a good thing or a bad thing yet, but I know I am beginning to feel better, finally.  It’s small steps, and I know that there will be good days and bad days, but I think I’m getting there.

I feel able to assess what has gone wrong.

I moved to the area I live in to be nearer to my partner, but it wasn’t long before I had decided that the place I was renting was actually pretty bad for me.  It was costing me over half of my wages each month, and my landlord seemed to think it was ok to let himself into my flat whenever he felt like it.  This, combined with the fact that I received verbal abuse from him, him thinking it acceptable to vet my post and the fact that he would not communicate directly with me regarding my tenancy (it was ok to talk to anyone other than me, in fact) led me to decide (after a year of this) to leave.  My partner supported me in my decision, and knew that the place wasn’t making me happy.

At the end of February, I began to downsize.  Along with not wanting the fancy flat, that I didn’t need a majority of the ‘stuff’ I’d accumulated over the years.  It wasn’t adding to my happiness and therefore it had no place in my life.

A friend was selling a caravan, so I made the decision to buy my own house, and move from a 1 bedroom flat, into a 4 berth caravan.  Saving on rent and bills would be huge, and it would allow me to save for a future with my  partner.

My landlord vanished for 5 weeks, I assume he’d gone on holiday.  During this time, I’d paid a deposit on a pitch for my caravan, and began packing in order to move out as soon as I was able.  As he was away, I wasn’t able to talk to my landlord.  I didn’t know when he would be back, or what to do in the mean time.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to move and pay my rent, but again, I was unable to speak with my landlord about this, plus, as I already mentioned, he refused to speak with me about such things anyway.

The day before we were due to leave for a holiday for my birthday, my landlord decided to lose the plot completely.  I’d seen him, but again, he didn’t speak to me.  He approached my partner, and said he wanted me out (no great shame as I was planning on leaving the week after our holiday anyway), but I think he wanted to feel in control, so he decided to kick me out.  I was not party to any conversations, so I cannot say what was discussed, but the outcome was that I had until the end of the week following our holiday to move out of the flat (end of March).  Fine by me.

Whilst my landlord was on holiday, my heating broke, and my boiler was constantly on.  This resulted in a services bill of over £350.  My partner agreed to pay the bill, without consulting me.  I was not happy with this, but I was told ‘you have no choice’.  So the bill was paid.

On this same day, the site I had booked to put my caravan called to say they would not accept the van on site as it ‘looks old’, and ‘looks like a gypsy caravan’.  Yes, it is old.  Yes, it needed cleaning, but the issue was actually the make.  You see, my caravan is a make that is favoured by travellers.  Instantly I was labelled as a pikey.  The lady at the site said they had a van that someone was selling, which they would be happy to put on the pitch, the only issue with it was that there was no hot water.  Not a problem as there were facilities nearby.  We said we would take it as I needed a place to live.

Everything sorted, and I could go and enjoy my holiday visiting my partners family in Malta.

At this point I’m going to go back to December 2015.  I was working in a warehouse, a job that I enjoyed very much, but I had been bullied for a number of months.  This was by a man that had a history of treating others how he was treating me, but the management kept letting him get away with it so he was free to do it yet again.  After Christmas, I put in an official grievance, so this was also going on at the same time.  It was causing me to dread going into work as no one was talking to me, and I was constantly in and out of meetings about it, basically to be told ‘it’s your word against his’.  At some point, they produced a ‘mental health policy’.

In he week or so following Christmas, I found out that my uncle had been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.

It wasn’t long before things started to go downhill and my depression started to rear it’s ugly head.

Anyway, back to March.  We had a lovely holiday, and I came back feeling relaxed.  My bully had been dismissed following an incident where he had to be dragged away from me (I honestly thought he was going to hit me), and I was moving house!

On the bank holiday Monday we went up to look at the new caravan and were absolutely appalled by what we saw.  Mouldy, damp, falling to pieces.  The things hadn’t even been cleaned since the last time the previous owner had used it.  It was vile.  It was in much much worse condition than my van, but as it was a ‘respectable’ make, I guess it was ok for them.  We declined the offer of this caravan, and parted ways.

It was at this point that I also learned that the ‘agreement’ with the landlord actually involved me being unable to stay in the flat for the last week.  I was, in effect, homeless.

My partner took the next 2 days off work in order to help me find a new place to go with my van.  We visited many sites, and even went to a travellers site, in the hope that I could move somewhere.  Finally, at around 5pm on the Wednesday, we put my van on it’s pitch.  I could rest easy.

During this week, I should have been back to work, but what with being homeless, I took the decision to prioritise that above going into work.

I spent the Thursday getting myself moved in and sorted, with the intention of returning to work the following day.

I found out that evening that my uncle had passed away very suddenly, so my return to work didn’t happen until the following Monday.  I was in bits.  In the past 7 days 2 major things had happened that really tested my ability to keep going, but keep going I did.

I returned to work to find that my bully had contacted a solicitor, so that issue wasn’t over for me yet as I’d have to keep going over what had happened, as well as having to have a disciplinary for ‘unauthorised absence’.  I’m not about to start bashing my former employer, however they broke a number of their own rules in the following week.  Anyway, I’ll return to that.

It was beginning to get a bit too much for me, and I was frequently tearful, and very withdrawn.  One of the bosses found me sobbing in the kitchen and told me to ‘pull myself together’.  This was after they’d made up their ‘mental health policy’.  I was gobsmacked.  I was made to feel like a burden.  This, added to my ‘dedication to the company’ being questioned (please bear in mind that I had been subject to relentless bullying since before Christmas, and stuck it out for a meager £7 per hour), was too much.  A new job was in order, so I began looking.

As always, I spent that Wednesday with my partner (Wednesdays & Fridays have always been date night), and I stayed at his place.  He offered for me to use his washing machine as it’s cheaper than the launderette, and as he was going to be away in France for a week, said I could stay at his with my cats if I wanted.  Things were looking up.  I had my new home, was looking for a new job and I was looking forward to a future with my partner.

On the Friday I went over to his again for date night, and after telling me what we were going to have for tea, he dumped me.

Needless to say, I was rather stunned.

As I understand it, the past few months had been too much for him and he ‘couldn’t do it any more’.  He’d been ‘thinking about it for the past couple of months’, and he’d ‘only stayed with me because he hoped he’d get his money back’.  I’d ‘made him unhappy’.  He’d done a stellar job of hiding it, including taking me away to Malta for a week for my birthday, when he let me pay for absolutely nothing.

This was someone that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.  We were talking about our future just days before.  My whole world had caved in.  It was knowing that he was by my side that had helped me through the past months with the stress of work and my uncles diagnosis & death.  Now he wanted to leave.

That was 6 weeks ago.  He’s completely cut me out of his life.  I’ve spoken to him once during this time.  Going from speaking to someone every day, to them wanting absolutely nothing to do with you is heartbreaking to say the least.

I felt that our relationship was worth more than just throwing away, so I’ve emailed him.  I’ve had no response at all.

Am I bitter?  Probably, I haven’t yet got to that point.  Disappointed, maybe.  Amazed at this turn of events, for sure.  He’d hidden his feeling from me, but mentioned that one of his friends had ‘noticed he was unhappy’.  Never occurred to them to tell him to speak to me though apparently.

From what I can gather, the way that I’d handled my landlord/moving situation was the issue.  The fact that he’d had to put up money (I never asked this and I expressed my unhappiness about this), and the fact that ‘he’d had to sort everything out’.  Again, I’d never asked this, my landlord point blank refused to deal with me.

My partner knew everything about my finances, something that I have never been very good with, although I was sorting out various things in order for things to be better for our future.  I knew nothing about his, nor was I interested.  Earlier in our relationship I’d said that he would have to take care of anything like that, so it’s not unexpected that I can’t look after myself when it comes to such matters.

Anyway, I was dumped.  We didn’t split up, he dumped me.

I’ve not heard from any of the ‘friends’ I’d made whilst I’ve been living out here, and he’s made no effort to be in contact.

It’s almost as if he’s had one of those things they used in Men in Black to wipe your memory.

So these are the events that have led to 6 weeks (and counting) of the worst depression since I was diagnosed.  From about November 2015 – the beginning of April 2016.  My depression was building over this period, and then…well.  I’m here.

If you made it this far, please don’t feel sorry for me, don’t give me any cliche’s (honestly, I’ve heard them ALL!).  I’m sorry that it’s been such a long post, but it really helps get things straight in my own head to be able to ‘talk’ here.

I’ve broken this down into (at least) 2 parts, for my own sanity, and to make it less of a novel to read.

Maybe I should write a book!