Archive | November, 2011

That Dark Cloud is Stalking Me

28 Nov

Dear Diary,

It’s been a funny sort of day and I don’t know where to start. I’ve cried to the point where I’m surprised I haven’t caused a flash flood and no, I’m nowhere near the point of exaggeration. I forgot how much depression hurts, how badly I want to fall flat on my face and stay there until I’m nothing but a distant memory. Like I said, it’s been one of those days. I’ve walked around on autopilot, pleading with my emotions and I really didn’t want to break down in public like I did, but it happened and I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face.

I guess it all started when I left the house today. I’m still so tired, my sleeping schedule is worse than a newborn baby and without sleep, I’m terrible. I snap like a rabid dog, I act as though I’ve never heard of the word ‘patience’ and I’m probably not the type of person you want to sit down and have a conversation with. I get tearful and before I know it, I’m a walking waterfall. That’s what happened earlier and I still can’t pinpoint where it all went wrong. It would be easy to blame the buses, seeing as once again they weren’t running on time and because of that I was ten minutes late for my Job Centre appointment. Yes, I suppose the bus driver played his part in my tears today. Also the queue I was met with when I arrived, that annoyed me further. Still, what really pushed me over the edge was the waiting.

Sitting there for over forty minutes, my name was eventually called and I sat down at the lady’s desk. This was the part where everything fell to pieces. She started telling me off for being late, I explained about the bus not being on time and how it was full before we’d even gotten half way to town (That always happens when the buses are slow.) and she rolled her fucking eyes at me. I was told the buses ran every ten minutes, so my ‘story’ couldn’t have been true. I’d pushed back all her appointments, made her late and the same happened last week. And this is the part where I snapped back at her.

I was on time last week and I told her so. What made her late was the fact she stood there gossiping for a while to one of her work colleagues and left me waiting for over fifteen minutes. Yes, that’s what I told her, but I sprinkled my argument with a handful of ‘bloody hells’ and the likes.

She stared at me stony faced and said “Well, if you want to play it that way…” and then started to fire questions at me.

What have I been doing to look for work? Where’s my booklet? Have I been writing things down? What websites did I look at? Times, dates, places… It started to overload me and before I knew it, I was crying. Fat tears were rolling down my cheeks and right at that moment, I’d had enough. I ended up yelling at her and saying I couldn’t give a toss about any of this right now. Christ, that’s where I really shot myself in the foot, because she’s now trying to get my claim shut down… Well, at least she gave me a tissue before I left.

I then had to go buy potato fucking seasoning from Marks and Spencer. Of course I didn’t have to, but I would never have heard the end of it if I hadn’t picked up that bloody packet of crap. I just walked around in a daze, fighting the urge to cry again. It was difficult but I held on to my tears until I stepped through the front door.

I thought I was getting a little better, yet my mood took a nosedive today. Even with the medication I’m religiously taking I don’t seem to spot a difference in my day-to-day moods. It seems like its one step forward and ten steps back. I can’t sleep properly and I’m snatching a couple of hours here and there. My brain’s like a hamster on a wheel, it’s forever running but never getting anywhere, only turning in circles until I’m so exhausted I cry and eventually fall into a light sleep.

After a phone call, I now have something else to keep me awake at night. Shit, I’m probably the worst friend in the world and today I feel like the depression can claim victory because I’ve well and truly lost the battle. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll feel better? I can always hope, but right now even that feels like a struggle of epic proportions. Still the battle lines are drawn in the sand and with the waves crashing down on me; I’ll live to fight another day because Tuesday won’t know what hit it.

I Keep Hitting a Brick Wall

17 Nov

Dear Diary,

I have a  half-brother. He’s ten months older than me. I’ve struggled to get to know him and right at this moment I’m fed up with hitting a brick wall.

There was an awful  mountain of hurt which lead up to me discovering he existed and I worked through that hoping I could one day forge a relationship with him. But sadly that doesn’t seem to be happening. I’m always trying to connect with my half-brother, thinking perhaps he wants the same: A sibling who cares.

I think I’m mistaken, painfully so.

Emails are ignored and when I bring this to his attention I receive an apology, which is nice, lovely even. But sadly, it’s just words. If somebody tells me they’re going to reply to my email, I believe them. After the third time without any such thing happening, I don’t know what to do.

The truth is, I don’t want to cut all contact with him. I just wish he would realise what he could have if he kept his word and stayed in contact. His lovely wife is pregnant with a little girl. I think of how thrilled my Nan would have been having a great-granddaughter and it makes me smile. I might not know the parents properly, but I’ll always be there for the baby. She’s my niece and I would do anything for her.

I guess I only wish my half-brother would understand how important family is. Sadly I can’t make this happen no matter how much I want it to. All I can do is be there for him when he finally decides he wants to talk.


I Want to Shower Grapes With Sunshine

16 Nov

Dear Diary,

I knew drinking wine would work and I’m even smiling to myself as I write this. I slept for over fifteen hours straight thanks to two bottles. You have no idea how better I feel after a good nights sleep. I need to sleep or I feel like I’m losing my mind. Even the headache I have right now isn’t bothering me because it’s keeping the bad thoughts at bay.

My brother is trying to kill me with kindness. Look what he made me:

A cheese toastie and crisps. It did taste better than it looks.

I’m already tired and I don’t know why. I also still feel detached from the world and everybody in it… But that’s okay, it’s fine. Detached equals less pain and no tears.  I only like crying when I’m alone at night curled up in bed. I’ve found it releases the pain I keep bottling up inside my heart. If I don’t let the tears fall, I’m afraid one day my heart will shatter and I won’t want to glue it back together. That really is my biggest fear, waking up to realise the day has come where I give up my fight.

That day has come before, three times in fact, but I feel as though they were only rehearsals for the final act.

No, I don’t know why I’m thinking this way either. I should be used to these feelings by now. Seven years I’ve felt this way. Seven fucking years and I’m still here and hanging on to what little life I have. My chipped nails have had more than their fair share of practice and I’m gripping onto the edge of life, my feet dangling over a hazardous drop.

I feel better than I did yesterday and I’m thankful for that. Sleep truly is the master of all healers and alcohol is its accomplice.

On that note, I find I have nothing else to say.

– Raindrops

Wine O’Clock

15 Nov

Dear Diary,

I’m weak. There, I’ve admitted it and its now out in the open. I’m so fucking weak and I don’t care. I want to sleep tonight, I need to sleep and I know what I’m doing right now will help.

Don’t look at me like that when I’m doing what’s best for myself, okay?

Look, I tried to stay sober today, I truly did but it’s impossible. My mood is at a low and I’m struggling to find the positives in my life. I didn’t sleep well again last night and I blame myself. It’s always my fault and I can’t break away from the depression. Shit, it’s destroying me and I have nowhere to run. Wherever I go there is a black cloud hanging over me and I feel like I’m suffocating.

The pain in my heart hurts so badly, but it’s my friend. I’m used to it being there now and if I ever lost it I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

A few years ago I remember I went through such a bad episode of depression I actually prayed. I don’t believe in God, but I lay there in bed, curled up and sobbing uncontrollably and begging for death, physical pain, anything but what I was going through. A month later I got my wish when I was rushed to hospital vomiting and in so much pain I thought I was dying. I was passed from pillar to post before the doctors discovered I had an ovarian cyst. I couldn’t lay down, I couldn’t walk and I could hardly move without leaking tears. That was the worst physical pain I had ever felt and it was all my fault. I’d asked for a different kind of pain and I had received just that.

The consultant said I was the strangest patient he had ever had… I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not but I took it as one. He told me most people wouldn’t have been walking around with a cyst my size and I had no answer to that. There had been short bursts of pain but I’d thought nothing of it, I’d been too consumed with my emotional pain to question anything else.

The man had said I would be in surgery for an hour and a half. They finally wheeled me out four and a half hours later. The team had drained five litres of fluid from my cyst and I was told I was lucky it hadn’t burst. I also lost a fallopian tube and an ovary to gangrene. The only thing I was thankful for at the time was the morphine. Sadly it was taken away from me the next day for apparent ‘misuse’.

I learnt my lesson after the surgery, even if I still bathe in the beauty of atheism. I’ll never ever beg for a different type of pain to what I hold close to my heart.

I now have half the chance of conceiving and I have yet to confront that fear. I don’t know if I want to have children because there is this worry I’ll damage my child’s mind and happiness with my gloomy moods. It would kill me to know I was responsible for causing a little boy or girl’s pain.

Now back to today…

Sleep is still foreign to me. It has been for the past two nights. I’m tired right now, I have been all day but I can’t sleep for longer than a couple of hours. I just feel exhausted and tearful, that’s why I’m drinking.

My wine beside a picture of me before I was destroyed by life.

More often than not I feel like I’m slowly dying inside and that’s why I drink. I know I shouldn’t be making excuses but I will until the day I die. This is just the frame of mind I’m in right now.

The drink is going to my head because I haven’t eaten since six o’clock this morning and my mind isn’t on food at the moment, not at all. You know it isn’t too, just take a look at the title of this entry.

I don’t like wine and I never have done. Why am I drinking it if I don’t like it you ask? Right now, as I sit alone in the house with a crippling darkness the focus of my thoughts, I need it. I need the pain to die for a little while until I can fight my corner again.

I raise a glass to you, my diary. I’ll toast you as I sip another drop of rose because you give me a place to vent without ever speaking a word.

– Raindrops

‘Til the Pain is So Big You Feel Nothing At All

14 Nov

Dear Diary,

It didn’t work. Even with the heating on sleep still escaped me until late and as a result I was like a walking zombie this morning. Sadly I had to go out today, I wandered out the house without a coat on and by the time I reached the bottom of the road I was cold. Part of me welcomed the chill, the weather had quite a bite and I felt something. The numbness I’ve been drowning in these past few weeks was somewhat startled by the crisp air and I felt something. A tiny thought of ‘What am I doing?’ flittered through my mind before I pushed it away in favour of the numbness. It makes me feel safe, it’s like a comfort blanket and I don’t know what to do without it anymore. I can’t cope with my thoughts, pain and the overwhelming urge to make a life for myself, so I stay as detatched as possible. It’s better this way because I don’t get hurt.

I  had to go to the Jobcentre this morning and I despise the place. Nobody understands how much I want a job, one that will lift my spirits and stop me from feeling like such a failure. I have interviews, I always do, but I’m crushed each time I don’t get the job. What’s the matter with me? And why can’t I be like everybody else?

Sometimes it feels like everybody has a life but me. I’ve started to keep away from facebook because all I see are people with lives, jobs, houses, boyfriends, husbands, girlfriends, children… They have it all. I carry so much unhappiness inside me and this blog, that’s what I have to show for my life.

Today after I left the Jobcentre I was miserable. Putting my earphones in, I skipped every song on my iPod searching for something that matched my mood and settled on John Lennon’s Working Class Hero. It was when the song started to play and I waited to cross the road that a hearse stopped right in front of me. Gazing through the glass at the resting coffin my mind began to run away from me and I knew right then there was a fine line between life and death. There have been times when my toes have crept over the blurred line, but I always fought to drag myself back to a place where I could sit and collect my thoughts until I was brave enough to stand on my own two feet again.

It’s ironic the sight of a coffin shifts my mood from quiet despair to hope. There will be a glimmer of hope in the sky tonight, a little twinkle of a star when the moon is out and it has my name on it. I have put all my energy into hoping my life will improve and I pray it’s not misplaced because I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired, so exhausted of having to fight to be happy. But I’ll keep fighting because that’s all I have and I’m not ready to give up just yet.

I think back to the hearse as it drove away from me and there were flowers in the back, pale, pretty flowers depicting a fisherman and it makes me smile sadly. There will be another family mourning a loved one this Christmas and that always depresses me.

If I died, I wonder what my own family would litter my coffin with? Probably purple and black wreaths, vodka bottles made up of flowers and I’d like to think they’d each write a letter to me. I won’t be holding my breath though…

I’m still incredibly tired and I’ve been fighting the urge not to drink all day. There is this feeling deep down inside my gut and my god, I want to get a little drunk. Only a little so I can sleep tonight. I’m unsure whether that’s my mind trying to find an excuse for me to drink. I’ll try not to listen to the drunken devil on my shoulder and stay away from the bottle today. It will only complicate matters and I need to find another way to cope. I’m still hoping posting on here will lift my spirits a little or at least the weight off my shoulders.

I guess that’s all I have to say for the moment,

– Raindrops


14 Nov

Dear Diary,

It’s five to six in the morning and I’ve already been awake for a couple of hours. Why? I guess I just don’t know. There’s so much I can’t explain and I sometimes struggle to wade through my many thoughts on a daily basis.

I’m having one of those moments again. It’s times like this when I wake up far too early and it’s still dark outside. I feel like the silence is slowly eating away at my soul and sleep is escaping me like smoke billowing from an industrial sized chimney, coughing my depressive thoughts into the atmosphere.  If I lived in a country which exercised the death penalty, I would be the first woman to suffer such a fate for melting polar icecaps with my bleak, black thoughts.

In the song Pennyroyal Tea, Kurt Cobain uses the line, ‘I’m so tired I can’t sleep’ and that pretty much sums up how I feel right now. That and the numbness deep inside my soul is starting to wake. It’s being poisoned by sadness and the unhappiness is making my heart sink.

I can literally feel my mood dropping, sliding down a slippery slope and no matter what I tell myself, what I promise to do, I can’t seem to overthrow my feelings. My depression never takes my challenges seriously and the hurt expands inside me until the tears erupt from my eyes. But this is my life and I try my hardest to hang on while I promise myself one day I’ll be happy.

Well, I think I need to try and fall back to sleep. I’ve turned on the heating hoping the heavy warmth will lull me into unconsciousness. Do you think it will work? I’ll let you know if it does.

This is goodbye for now, thanks for giving me a place to collect and house my thoughts without bias.

– Raindrops