Broken thoughts

Brain not working.
Stressed. Worried. Don’t know why.
Can’t cope with anything. Anything at all.
Give up. Go to make coffee.
Coffee powder, coffee press. Wait for kettle.

“Kill yourself.”

Tiny words, hit me hard.
Stagger. Grab work surface to stay upright.



Panic. Start to fall. Grab hold.
Hyperventilate. Tears. Can’t see, can’t think.

Time passes. Tears fall.

Legs hurt. Arms hurt. Still unsteady.
Frozen thoughts. Fear. Can’t break out.
Focus. Coffee.


Pour the kettle. Make the coffee. Not thinking. Mustn’t think.
Mug, stick; stagger to bedroom.
Bed. Duvet. Hide.


Adventures in anxiety

Last chance to see Dark Night Rises in the local cinema tonight. Decide to go to half seven showing. Been playing Skyrim, stop to eat dinner. Food doesn’t taste right. It’s not the food, it’s me but can’t finish it. Feel a bit tired, a bit down. Decide to lie down for a bit. Think maybe shouldn’t go out after all.

Nearly time to go out. Want to see the film, but don’t want to go out. REALLY don’t want to go out. Don’t know why, just don’t. Karen is getting ready. Says I should too. Start to panic a bit. Say I can’t go. She’s still getting ready. Tell her again. Can’t go. Sorry. Sorry. I’m shit and stupid. Just can’t go. She tells me to sit up and put shoes on. Maybe I’ll be better once we get there. I put shoes on. Pack bag with medicine, blood sugar monitor, emergency stuff. See my satnav cradle and the rubber pipe i bought as a spacer, get sidetracked by trying to make it fit my tablet. I’m delaying really. Pretend to myself I haven’t noticed.

Time to go. Visit toilet first. More delay. Don’t want to go.

In the car. Body drives the car automatically while the mind says “don’t want to go don’t want to go don’t want to go you’re stupid for not wanting to go you’re shit.” Round and round. Endless loop. Turn music on. Happy but heavy music to drown out the thoughts.

Pull into car park. Engine off.


Don’t want to get out can’t move want to hide oh god why are there windows I’m exposed people might see me need to hide oh shit oh shit oh shit.

Karen is there. Holding my hand. Ignore windows. Focus on nice safe hand.


Why am I thinking this? I’m so stupid and pathetic and shit for thinking this. Karen says I’m not. I am. Useless too. Karen says she loves me. She shouldn’t, I’m shit. Can’t even go to see a film. I’m shit I’m skit I’m shit I’M SHIT. DON’T LOVE ME I’M SHIT.

Can’t cope with car park. No one there, but I’m exposed. Start car, drive home. Worried I’m not safe to drive but body drives automatically.

Park. Freeze.

Get out. House is there. Go! Quickly! In door. Bed. Under duvet. Safe here. Safe. Heart beats. Shake. Cry.

I’m shit.

Mental illness is more disabling to me than physical illness

I have reached the point where mental illness is more disabling to me than physical illness. Before I became depressed I was physically ill with ME, diabetes and migraines and I was limited by fatigue and pain but I could write, I could repair computers, and I could focus to read or watch TV, as long as I planned around my illness. With regular rests and flexible timing I could engage with the world and get some things done. Now, though, depression and anxiety steal my focus for hours at a time and prevent me from completing even the simplest task. I start writing blog posts and manage one line. I start watching TV and manage 2 minutes of a half hour episode. I start games then give up. I drive to shops or friends and then can’t get out of the car. I look at my forms for help with power wheelchair costs and freeze up. The phone rings and I pull the duvet over my head.

My physical and mental illness seem to feed off each other too. If I reach a point of (even more than normal) exhaustion then I will also become overtaken by despair.┬áDepression and anxiety also make it impossible to work towards improving my physical health. I need to get a routine and start pacing my activity but mental health problems mean that I can’t even think about doing things when I need to.

I’m not sure that I have a point in this blog post other than wanting to rant a bit. I suppose if anything my point is that depression is not some minor inconvenience. It is a real, crippling illness that will destroy a life just as effectively as any physical problem.