When I was ill, it was suggested to me that when I hit what I call the black hole, I should write down my feelings so that when I felt a bit better, I could look back at my diary entries and see how far I’d progressed. I never did it at that time and I guess that the very fact that I am doing it now suggests that I am better than I was then, although it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it sometimes. The black hole is when I am feeling very low and very negative. It is at these times that I am more likely to consider ending my life. I have stashed enough tablets in the house to do it, but the fear of failure and waking up in a psychiatric ward again always stops me.
I sometimes wonder when all this is going to end. I go through my life for days at a time in my drug-induced numbness, having the world believe that I am fine. I laugh, I make jokes, I do my job and I talk to my friends. Everyone says how well I’m doing. Then suddenly, bang, it hits me again and I might as well be right back where I started. I reach the point of emotional overload where I have to withdraw from my friends for fear of showing them what I’m really like. Mel is always the one who copes you see, always the one who takes time over her appearance and is always the one who listens to everyone’s problems and offers solutions where possible. That’s the Mel I show to the outside world, and that’s the Mel I want to be, but in truth, I’m sitting here looking like something from the afore-mentioned psychiatric ward, my hair every which way and tears running unchecked down my face.
Who knows why this latest episode has come on, or how long it will last for. I’m running on about three hours’ sleep a night at the moment which just isn’t enough and my ex husband is causing me a lot of anxiety. I finally got to the bottom of the £300 which he recently took from my credit card. I traced the company to which the payment was made which turned out to be a Peugeot dealership. Strange that as our car is a Honda. When confronted about this, my ex admitted to me that it was a down-payment on a car for his new woman. Am I really that stupid? Am I really that gullible that I can have allowed this sort of thing to happen to me, caused by someone I once loved. Am I that awful that those who are close to me sooner or later will end up hating me and taking what they can get?
I thought about making this entry private but on reflection have decided to make it available to my friends. Only people I really trust are allowed onto my friends list and, as I believe in honesty, I feel my friends have the right to know what they’re dealing with. I didn’t write this to ask for sympathy or to cry for attention and if some of you walk, I shan’t blame you. You’re not the first and I’m sure you won’t be the last.