I’ve been particularly angry today for no reason.
I put it down to PMT, premenstrual tension.
Something men with depression and anxiety don’t have to deal with. How lovely for them.
Anyway, I was speaking to my mother about having a heart to heart with my cousin, who is just a few months younger than me, and who left work because life got too difficult for her.
Well, I compared her situation to mine, and my mother said: “well, she’s worse than you”
I just thought, well there you have it. Yeah, she’s worse than me, because while she has taken two years off work and stressful life events, I’ve hauled myself back into the office after 11 weeks because we have no money. And I make myself run errands, like shop for food.
But yeah, she’s worse than me, because while she may have contemplated suicide, I think about it every day. And I am seriously considering it.
But yeah, she’s worse than me, because whilst she might have had a good childhood, I spent my years anxious out of my brain.
But she’s worse than me. I don’t want to work tomorrow. I don’t feel like I can face it. I cant face the stresses of work, the responsibilities, the difficulty in getting up in the morning. The difficulty of spending hours of your life holed up in an office. Either that, or hours of your life doing fuck all inside your house. Good choices.
I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t even want to leave my room at this point. My PMT just comes into my life and says, hey remember that depression and anxiety your trying to fight every day of your fucking life and you’ve been doing okay going to and from work and with life in general? Yeah well, here’s a bit of a kick-start. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES!?
So, I think I’m just gonna fuck it and not go to work. Whatever, she’s worse than me.