I am terribly, terribly sad and nothing is making it go away. I know people say that they can’t really understand what mental health problems are like if they haven’t had them – well please allow me to illustrate my example.
A few years ago, I lost my mum to lung cancer. We were close and I very much looked up to her. I thought her death would be the very worst thing that could ever happen to me, and it was pretty horrific.
The way I feel now is worse. With no reason. No bereavement counselling, no reassurance that I will work through ‘stages’ to recovery, no concerned relatives and certainly no fucking flowers. Just a terrifying feeling of darkness, worthlessness of myself and everything around me.
My mental health nurse has moved on to another job and I won’t get another, because the NHS has no money and they have to focus on the people actively taking overdoses rather than the ones fighting the urge. My Personality Disorder psychiatrist sees so many chaotically ill people – emaciated, angry, covered in scars and cigarette burns – that he understandably says I’m ‘doing well’. I get where he’s coming from, but it’s cold comfort.
I’m so grateful to my friends for sticking around the bundle of definite un-fun that I am. My best mate tells me this will pass, and I have to listen to him. It’s all I have to hold on to.