#TheStruggleIsReal

I'm just going to launch right in here I'm afraid and simply state that life is, quite frankly, hideous at the moment.

My mental health has taken possibly the nose-dive equivalent of a Cristiano Ronaldo dive with a dash of the peregrine falcon about it. It's pretty safe to say I'm by far the worst I've been since I was signed off during the great memory-stick gate of 2014.

I've missed so much work in the last few months I shudder to think how much money I've lost. Whilst I far prefer to be on the staff bank I don't get paid what I don't work. Basically if I was in a 'normal' job I would have begged my GP to sign me off by now and considering the state I'm in I'm pretty sure I'd have that form in my hand right now.

The worst of it is that I feel incredibly guilty for letting the team on the ward I work on down. I've grown to absolutely adore Ward Clerking and really feel horrid when I constantly call in sick and leave them in the lurch. Whilst I'm not directly looking after patients it's the little things I can do to help save the nurses time which I find most rewarding.

But quite frankly I'm in no fit state to be of help to anyone, let alone myself, at this moment in time. I'm getting freaked out at the thought of going to town, making the short walk to the supermarket or anything that involves moving any further down the garden than Esme's hutch.

And to put it bluntly I can't see any way out at the moment. I'm sorry to say this (but when I started this blog way, way back back in 2013 I promised a 'warts n all' depection of living with a mental illness) but yes I have been carrying around thoughts of suicide the last few weeks. I'm not saying this for shock value, or to gain Twitter or Facebook comments (although thank you to those of you who are all so lovely) or to seek some kind of attention. I guess I just want to get across how bad things are at the moment in Jen-world. I can't sleep at night with scary thoughts invading my brain, I almost wish there was a 'safe' way to demonstrate it, to get myself put away for a few weeks to clear my head (I'm not even joking here) but there is no way on earth that I'm prepared to put my family through that, who have been nothing but supportive, far more than I deserve. So much so that this week Mum and Dad have cancelled going away for a few days because they're worried about me, I'm a 31 year old who can't be left alone.

I'm back in counselling each week now, but like any kind of treatment it takes a little bit to titrate. I'm seeing the lady I saw up until spring last year (when I foolishly thought I'd made progress) so at least we can pick-up where we left off.

One of the most irritating aspects of the situation is that I cannot for the life of me pinpoint what's caused this. Yes I've had job uncertainty and upheaval (cheers Med Sec Managers) which is the tip of the iceberg, but this has been building for some time now and I don't know why.

Even my normal go-to lifts aren't helping - listening to music just makes me sad, watching crap on YouTube is getting boring, I can't concentrate on a book or magazine and even my witchy pursuits aren't fulfilling me at the moment despite having really good results with it (see here https://muddlingwitch.blogspot.com/)

I almost wish some physical injury could befall me, that would take me out of action for a few weeks, just a little broken ankle or toe or some such so that I'd have a valid reason to not work or want to leave the house. And yes I know this is utterly stupid.

That's pretty much the shape of it at the moment, please don't be freaking out as I'm sure I'll waddle through it. However if anyone feels like forking out to send me to The Priory or some such all donations will be gratefully received!

Love Jen
XxxX