Tag Archives: Marks and Spencer

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.

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