Broken

I don't know how long it is since I saw my psychiatrist. I don't feel any better. Each day is just merging into the next. Every night I go to bed hoping that when I wake up things will be better and every day I wake up and things seem worse. Every night I imagine what I'm going to do the next day but when it comes to it I can't seem to do anything worthwhile . I was stupid to think I could go to my psychiatrist, get some new pills and then everything would be ok. It doesn't work like that. It could take weeks for the medication to start working again properly. I don't know that I can face weeks of feeling like this. What if the medication doesn't work this time? I've always had a bit of fight in me but it seems to have gone. I'm tired of it all. I feel so alone even though I'm surrounded by friends and family. I want someone to take all the sadness away. I miss my ex husband, even though I doubt he'd be any help. I don't want to be living on my own. 

I should have seen it coming. I was so smug thinking I had everything under control. I thought I knew the signs and I thought I could deal with it. How stupid.

Everything is such a mess. My flat is untidy. I don't do untidy yet I haven't got the energy to sort it. I am a mess. I can't see the point in doing my hair.I don't want to put any makeup on because I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror. I don't know what will happen with work, obviously I'm off sick again. I haven't opened any letters or checked my bank account for days. I'm normally so organised to the point of being almost obsessive, yet right now it's all just one big jumble.

When I first started writing this blog I felt proud of it. I felt like I had something worthwhile to share. Now I just seem to be writing a load of miserable stuff. Writing things down helped. Now I think I'm just making myself more unhappy. Maybe it's time to stop until I've got something worth sharing.