Monday, June 28


That is the name I have given to days when I am sad and heavily under the influence of hormones. D stands for any of the following: Depression, Darkness, Despair, Doubt and Disappointment. Fleetingly (and I really do mean 'fleetingly') it can stand for Death, when I can see only my own and my loved ones' demise through a port-hole of misery.

Today is a D-Day. I am really poor until payday on Weds, I have about a fiver to live on. The heat hasn't helped. Nor has my impending period. Nor did the fact that I was given a cover lesson and had to work flat-out all day to try and inject enthusiasm into wilting kids. Then I got home and discovered something about potential upcoming changes at work, and BOOM... D-Day*.

All I could see in my future were more days like today and worse, and I honestly felt hopeless. If I'm more honest, I still feel a little like that right now. I sobbed through a phonecall from my dad and jibbered through a phone call with my sister, and I felt embarrassed on each occasion. It is pointless to try and think yourself out of a D-Day situation. Every turn has me slinking back into poverty and mental illness and that futile feeling like I am wading through quicksand. Shame prevents me from sharing my feelings; thoughts of those 'starving children in Africa' that were pummeled into my brain when I complained about doing PE in the rain at primary school. My boss is a control freak! Tough, there are babies in Africa with flies in their eyes. Get a grip.

I can't get a grip.

So I keep thinking to myself 'Next year'. Next year I will be out of debt. Next year I will be able to quit my job and find one in a place that isn't run by a megalomaniac. I will be further along the bereavement trail and coping better without Mum. But it isn't bloody 'Next year' is it? It's 'Now' and it's fucking horrid.

*Also, my fish wasn't cooked properly and I had to spit it out and leave it on the plate. Yes I know, starving children in...

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