I don’t remember very much of that weekend, I think most of it was spent in tears.
I returned to work on the Monday, I had to carry on like normal, after all. I was under a lot of pressure from work as I was in the shit for taking time off to find a home and after my uncle passed away, so I dragged myself in.
I made an appointment to see the doctor – something I probably should have done weeks before.
I was given a sick note for 2 weeks. My doctor was horrified at what I told him, and was really supportive.
I emailed work and told them I had a sick note. My boss knew what had happened, and knew I was going to see the doctor.
That Wednesday I received a letter from my employer saying I was fired, but they would pay me 4 weeks pay and I didn’t have to work my notice.
The reason was ‘gross misconduct’. There were a few things mentioned, but no actual reason for them considering whatever I’d done as ‘gross misconduct’.
But I wasn’t well enough to do anything about it, and by God I wanted them to know they can’t just treat people like this.
I was being harassed by someone at work as a direct result of their inability to nip the problem in the bud before I even began working there. The worst thing? THEY ADMITTED AS MUCH!!!
Anyway, I was then at a point where I was unemployed, alone, and living in a caravan just a few miles from my previous house.
A few things occurred to me – why, if my now ex partner had been ‘thinking about this for a while’, had he allowed me to look for a place near him, knowing my family and nearest friends live an hour away? This pissed me right off. It still does. We’ll not go into what I thought (and still think) about the ‘friends’ that I made whilst living round here.
My depression had been kept relatively under control until the beginning of April. I was looking forward to moving and getting on with life, looking to the future, then things fell apart.
I couldn’t see any reason to carry on. It was honestly the thought of my cats eating my face that kept me from doing anything stupid.
The week after I was dumped, it was my uncles funeral. I felt so selfish for feeling like I did. Here I am, unemployed, newly single, and all pretty much my own fault, and my cousins are now without their dad, and my auntie without her husband. How self absorbed. I was swinging wildly between feeling despair and feeling self loathing for feeling like I did.
Guilt is a big part of depression for a lot of people. Being brought up Catholic, well, guilt is like a default setting for me. It feeds the depression.
I spent most of my days crying, utterly unable to see a way out of this mess.
I spoke with my ex partner a couple of weeks after he dumped me, and I felt like maybe things were not all lost, so I emailed him. It could be that he’s not seen it, or maybe he deleted it. Whatever, he hasn’t seen fit to reply.
I probably don’t need to go into the negative thoughts I have about this. Needless to say, I’ve come to the conclusion that actions speak louder than words, and his feelings towards me, and our relationship are obviously not anywhere near what I feel about him.
Yes, I still love him. Yes I’d love a future with him. But somewhere along the line he decided that wasn’t for him.
Maybe there’s someone else. I don’t know and I suppose I’ll never know as this person that I love and care about so deeply, the person I miss each and every day, wants absolutely nothing to do with me. Every day it feels like my heart is breaking afresh as I look at my phone and don’t see my ‘good morning princess’ message from him.
I find it unbelievable that I managed to make him think this way, when I think of other people and how they are with each other, the things that they have been through and they are still together.
I do have a point to make, but you’ll have to bear with me, this is all relevant stuff.
I haven’t cried for 3 days, which is good going, but writing about his morning message has set me off. It’s the silly little things I miss the most.
It’s these things that kept me going and stopped me from succumbing to my depression sooner.
Someone said to me that you shouldn’t rely on anyone else for your happiness. I know this full well, and it wasn’t relying on anyone for happiness. It was having someone there that understood and just their very existence made each day bearable.
I didn’t want him to bail me out, I told him as much. I didn’t fuck up on purpose, I just can’t deal with things very well, I thought I was doing the right thing. Maybe I was doing the right thing in my head, but when your brain doesn’t work too well in the first place it’s hard to tell, and certainly looks like a huge cluster fuck to the average outsider.
So onto the point I wanted to make with this story.
Being with me, you don’t just get me. You get me, and my depression. Being with someone with depression is like being with 2 people. Always this horrid thing is there, you may not see it all the time, you may not see it often, but it’s always lurking. You may not realise how it can rule someone’s life, even when they look fine and seem to be acting fine and holding shit together.
It’s a constant darkness following you.
At times it feels like a tangible thing.
When it comes down to it, my darkness pushed the one person I have ever been able to see a future with away. I don’t mean to sound like I’m making excuses, but sometimes the way my brain works may seem totally normal to me, but it’s not to other people.
It’s kind of ironic that the main theme for this years Mental Health Awareness Week has been relationships.
So here I am, still alone in my caravan in the middle of nowhere, still unemployed, still struggling through each day. Some days I cry a lot, some days I feel ok. I am back to not even considering a future (I never had done until I met my ex), it all seems pretty pointless at the moment when I have to force myself to get out of bed in the mornings. I can’t plan too far ahead as I’ll either forget or be unable to do it. Have I mentioned that my memory goes completely when I’m ill?
I am lucky that I have an extremely supportive family and a fantastic group of friends that have gone out of their way to look after me. Social media sometimes gets a bad rap, but I can say, hand on heart, that I would have been absolutely lost without Facebook & Twitter. It’s not easy scraping together money to travel to see people, but at least if I’m able to steal wifi I can at least stay in touch.