This week I’m waiting to be medicated for my own mental health, I had a meeting with a doctor and spoke about the problems I have since the crash.
Physically I’m weaker, my fitness has nosedived but as with the wounds which become scars the physical ability might will come back to me after all I was called “ little miss FTP” the other day, I have one more appointment and that’s to have a melanoma looked at, I’m not worried, my family all drop down dead with heart issues not cancer.
Mentally I’m in a tricky spot and I don’t want to sound all “ woe is me” about it but living is becoming increasingly difficult. I was defined by my job and I’ve lost that with my brain damage, along with that my life has contracted as I became reliant on ESA and DLA, I never imagines a life like this while my father instilled in me my work ethic.
He was boilermaker, my extended family are either forces or miners and after the Thatcher union smashing I was told I would go to college because it was the only way to get out of the trap. I was the first member of my family to graduate university and that education gave me an amazing life.
Now I can’t live with myself so to keep me alive I’ve accepted that for a while I least I need medication. I was my job, I loved my educational investment and I was proud of everything that I’d achieved and with that being so closely tied to my sense of self I feel lost.
The only time I leave my house is to ride my bike, which because of my brain surgery I’ve not been able to, and I don’t mind hiding behind closed curtains locking the world outside, the thoughts I live with to kill myself aren’t the nicest thoughts and really the only thing stopping me is that someone would have to find my corpse and I have so few friends that it might take a while and I’m sure my upstairs neighbour wouldn’t appreciate the smell, or what about the tube train driver who without planning helps me move along, I can’t force that on someone.
I fight the urge to cut myself but it’s always been a way I deal with stress, even when I was at my happiest I always let the stress ooze from my body, I fight that big red cloud by letting out before it gets at me.
I’m tired, I don’t like the look of my future, broken beyond repair on my own in one of the most unfriendly cities you could ever live in. I consider moving, leave, get out but would I be going somewhere healthy to reconnect or would I be trying to run away from my black dog and I know I can’t do that.
I’m not depressed, I think to call me that does no justice to those that have to handle that, I’m just finding it difficult to cope.
The constant pain in my cervical and thoracic region are like knives and it feels like the things I enjoyed have been taken away and lets not thing about the money situation