The Definition Of Life

Not much to write about really when I'm still off work, still achieving nothing and still a fucking mess. But I figured I'd better let those in the blogosphere who care know that I'm still alive.

Alive's a pretty funny word isn't it? I mean define exactly what it means. If we are going with the literal definition then yes I am alive, my lungs are taking air in and out, my brain is controlling my vital organs which are continuing to function. The difficulty comes when people ask about having 'a life'. Therein lies the problem. I'm not sure a life qualifies when it's spent trying to sleep through low moods and then lay awake at night debating the best ways to end this problem.

Being brutally honest a couple of weeks ago I made genuine plans to end all this shit. It was my friend Nat's birthday and I figured what better way to mark the occasion than being as brave as she was 6 years ago and putting herself out of her misery. I'd been thinking on means and methods leading up to that weekend and had a loose plan that I would take some flowers up to Beachy Head, to the spot where she breathed her last on this earth, and just see if fate would intervene, give me a reason to carry on with this fucking tomfoolery.

Obviously I'm not typing this from beyond the grave hence nothing happened. I never even made it up to the cliffs. It was my poor Mum's reaction when I mentioned that I was going up with flowers, I can't put my loved ones through that, especially not at this time of year. There's no point ruining Christmas forever more for them, just 'cos I dislike it.

The stupid, stupid, stupid thing about my brain is that it can spend the morning like that Saturday when I was crazily agitated ready to throw myself into oblivion and then by the evening be chilled out drinking gin with friends. I mean how the fuck does that even work? That surely must be the definition of crazy?

Perhaps I am just an overreacting, selfish, attention seeking bitch looking to cover up my many failings. Maybe I am just inadequate, incapable of functioning in a normal world or workplace.

I have this appointment with the mental health peoples on 30th Dec but if it goes anything like my last appointment it will be fuck all help. I await being told that there's nothing much wrong with me and I am imagining my problems and am just a little anxious. To be honest if it goes down that route I'll just walk chucking my meds behind me, since I'm sane why do I need to be ingesting all these weird and wonderful chemicals? I may as well just go and shoot up herion for all the good they're doing me at the moment, it would probably give me a more chilled out effect!

Yes I'm angry, yes I'm miserable, yes I feel guilty as everyone around me is doing their best to help me and I'm effectively draining them, I'm furious with the twats at work who have put all the extra pressure on me that have worsened my symptoms so badly; they must be rubbing their fucking hands together with fucking glee knowing they have even more ammunition with which to prove I'm useless. I'm exhausted from being excited, creative, bouncy and anxious one minute and then miserable, sleepy, tearful, depressed and hiding in bed the next.

I have no idea what my brain is doing or what it's going to do next. Answers on a postcard anyone?

Love Jen
XxxX