An Old Ugly Friend

You get a job and think it will end all of your worries? Hell no.

Okay, so I feel a lot more happier then I was a couple of months a go and it honestly has done wonders for me but an old ugly friend has been rearing it’s head again – the waiting game.

When I was taken on, I was put on a temporary contract – something I didn’t want but something I couldn’t avoid.

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An Anxious Working Girl

How time flies? – Not when your having fun but when your so damn busy you didn’t even realise the time flew past you.

Two months now. Two months I have been an employed person.

Still unbelievable. Still unreal.

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What A Whirlwind (Part 3)

Tuesday 5th May

The weekend gave me time to think. And all I could think was:

A) They gave me an interview out of pity. Also because they have to appear fair to all and seen as I’m classed as disabled they kind of had to. Fair equality and all that.

B) Even if they did offer me an interview for these reasons it meant moot. Either way I was grateful for the experience. I was proud of myself for going through with it. And it proved that I’m stronger then I think.

C) Plus I was pretty sure from my bad answers, terrible honesty and general chit chat that I wasn’t going to get the job so I could forget about it all.

So, you can imagine my shock when:

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What A Whirlwind (Part 2)

Friday 1st May (Continued)

So I asked my Mum to go with me. Not to the interview, obviously! But just to accompany me so I knew she would be near by in case I needed her: part safety behaviour / part reassurance / part coping mechanism.

I got there early and scouted out the area to help calm me a little, then, when 3:45pm came, I reported to the customer service desk.

“Yeah, yeah. Please sign in and just stand over there with the rest.”

I looked to the left to discover a group of 6 nervous looking people, all wearing interview clothes.

“Erm, I’m sorry, I think you’ve made a mistake. I’m supposed to be having a one-to-one interview with Claire the manager…”

“No. I haven’t. Stand over there with them.”

Oh.

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Depression Is Winning

** WARNING!! CONTAINS TRIGGERS!! **

I hang on to the improbable dream that I will (ironically) hang myself.

It’s a dream and a daze that has been captivating me for weeks.

I feel hopeless and I feel useless.

I thought I was getting better.

But the strain of everything is tugging on my sad strings, making them whine and shriek.

I’m not okay.

I thought I was conquering mountains but it seems they where only hills and I’ve been rolling back down them, tumbling hard.

I’ve had suicidal thoughts before but these are different – even these are twisted and manipulated by depression’s cruel humour.

In my mind I imagine it unfolding… I shut myself away in my bedroom, I lock the door and I leave a note attached outside saying:

“Please don’t find me like this. Just call the authorities. It’s over – I’m over. I’m sorry.”

But just as I start to imagine myself dropping from the noose, the rope snaps and I fall pathetically to the ground.

My mind roars at me with great thundering laughter at my pitiful existence.

With hysterics it sniggers and taunts me about how I’m even too fat to commit suicide, about how I’m SUCH A FUCKING JOKE!


… How fucked up is that?

I can’t even have suicidal thoughts without depression’s distorted input.