When premenstrual tension kick-starts anxiety and depression

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.

My feelings will kill me one day

Today I woke up, feeling slightly better than last night; where I tried to take a knife with a serrated edge to my arm and draw blood.

I didn’t fortunately, but I have a weird scratch from where I drew the knife along my bare skin.

I’d spent most of the day feeling terrible. And the question of what to do with my life hung above me all day, like a very big, very heavy, rain soaked dark grey cloud.

I spent the day off sick watching movies and feeling uncomfortable though I was lying on the sofa. Then, my mother said something along the lines of “You’re lucky your brother doesn’t ask you to pay your way” and then I got angry.

I reminded her that I have just got back into work after a year studying. This came hours after she told me it’s okay to resign if I’m suffering THIS much.

So last night, I rocked back on forth on my bed, and repeated all of the nasty things the people who were meant to be close to me over the years said.

Anyway, I went to sleep, had a dream about my ex, and woke up this morning feeling equally as rubbish. And then I checked my email, and suddenly decided to go back to work.

I rang to tell them I should be in tomorrow and then I rang my bank to sort out a spiraling debt.

This anxiety is ripping me apart. Depression is it’s best friend, and eggs it on.

But, I’m a stubborn person, and I won’t let myself give up. Because I know that, that dark bottomless pit of self loathing and no hope is waiting for me. And once I’m in it, it will be very hard to come out. And I see a rope, or a bridge in my future if I take that path.

So I take the harder path. I do the brave thing and I get up in the morning, do my job, and come home only to watch the clock counting down the hours to the next day. But doing nothing at home would be equally as excruciating.

This is currently my resolve. This is the inner strength that comes out from time to time to tell me to pull my socks up. Nobody does it but me. And on weekends when I have some time off, I spend the day time watching. Desperate not to force myself to face my overwhelming feelings that will kill me one day.

And they WILL…kill me one day.

But for now my battle with anxiety continues.