This week has been to all intents and purposes, a damn fine week. The job situation I was really stressing and being ground down by came up trumps, the election went way better than I could have even begun to have hoped and yet...
I'm sat here on a Saturday evening feeling super wretched.
I'm frustrated as fuck about the apparent inconsistency flying around my mind. I'm currently sat in a four-bed house alone and when I am surrounded by people I crave my alone time more than anything. Yet, right now, I couldn't feel more lonely and I am craving the company of someone - anyone - who might understand me. Someone who would listen whilst I spew my brains and where I wouldn't feel as though they're sat there feeling as though they're being held hostage, thinking that I'm being a self-indulgent, self-pitying knobarch.
Does anyone else find that balance hard to find when they're feeling really shit and reaching out to someone, that they feel as though they are coming across as just feeling sorry for themselves when, in fact, the reality is that they're kinda despising themselves? Even with therapists, although what I've talked about feels very real, the words don't do my feelings justice and end up feeling slightly sugar coated - albeit with liquorice. And no-one likes liquorice.
Although I've resolved that depression and anxiety is likely to live with me for the rest of my life, and although I have coping mechanisms in place to help, those lows don't get any easier to cope with. At all.
I will sleep, I will probably have fucked up dreams as I often do when I feel this way and then try and spend tomorrow
revising whilst feeling slightly haunted.
Dammit, this is a pile of nonsense. But, better out than in, right?
I know I've said it before, upthread, but this site has come on an awfully long way since I was on it first ten years ago. There are some lovely, beautiful and caring strangers here and having a safe place like this to let my spleen bleed upon is so valuable.