Rejection is a bitch

After having gone through the stages of grief; in my opinion – denial, shock, distress, anger, sadness, acceptance, I’ve now come to the point where I am looking to rejoin the land of the living.

I won’t lie to you. Financial pressure is one of the reason I am considering this.

I’ve taken two months off work so far. But I still feel like I am not ready to go back to work. I am still largely unable to function properly. I can’t complete simple tasks, even at home in my personal life.

I was feeling okay recently, and applying to a couple of jobs – when I received a rejection for a role I was particularly interested in. Needless to say, rejection is a bitch to deal with, and so it has sent me on a downer.

It’s made me feel like I need to claw back desperately to cling onto anything this world is offering me to feel like I am worth something. That I am not just left red-faced on the back of the humiliation of rejection.

Now, I am wondering whether to beg for my old job back. The one I just couldn’t face day to day. Is it really the answer to push yourself back into doing something you know is not making you happy out of necessity?

The job was fine though. It is just difficult. And I am trying to avoid anything difficult in my life right now. That’s funny; seeing as all I’ve ever done is make my own life difficult because I’ve never felt like I am good enough.

And here comes the crux of the matter. It is purely BECAUSE I feel like I am not good enough, that it costs me A LOT of mental energy to participate in society. This is why I am finding life (and working) difficult. And that COST is what is killing me. It’s what is making me tired. It’s why I needed a rest.

So – I may go back to work very soon. But at what cost? If I go back and I am not ready, will I just fall again? How long do I wait, till my debts and my finances are at such a stretch that everything begins to fall apart?

We all live our lives like zombies – to pay the bills. Right? That’s what it boils down to.

So who am I? What is the point of me? Do I work to live, or live to work?





I always want to be raw and honest about my struggles in this blog. This is what it is for.

My anonymity is what is keeping this blog in the public domain.

But I am wondering whether to join the battle in exposing taboos around mental illness by making Youtube vlogs. I will be considering this.

I’m a lazy, depressed zombie


I start my new job next week. And I have overwhelming amounts of anxiety.

To the point I can feel it in my head. It’s as though I could go under the knife and have it surgically removed. That’s how physical it feels. Like a big ball of pressure.

I’m feeling terrible. It’s gotten worse recently. Just really lethargic, slow and sad. Like a lazy zombie. Napping all of the time and hardly able to concentrate.

So, because I’m a writer – that’s what I do for work now, I wrote an article which has received quite a lot of hate recently. I don’t read comments online because my little anxious bastard brain can’t take it.

But that anxiety of the hatred I receive had added to my self doubts.

Today I was cleaning my car – I finally managed to make myself do it – and all of a sudden I just climbed into the boot and played dead. I don’t know why. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic!

I tell myself over and over that I’m doing just fine. My work is great. My life is good. I have friends and family around me. I have a new job. It’s pretty cool. So fuck off brain and just accept EVERYTHING IS OKAY. But it won’t. Nah cos beating mental illness isn’t like giving yourself a pep talk before giving a talk. Or taking a sip of Dutch courage.

It’s frankly impossible. So a zombie I am. And there’s no one there to help me. I’m all alone in this. Sometimes I wish I could just die. Stupid lost little fucking bitch.