So I haven’t written a post for bloody ages!
I’ll give it to you honestly; the stress of the past few months, losing Jonny, and the depression thats followed has left my immune system shot to pieces and I’ve become more and more physically ill. I had a cold that turned into tonsillitis that’s turned into glandular fever and here I am. I have been stuck in bed for weeks on end now.
On top of that everyone knows christmas is a super hard time for people who have lost someone.
Christmas and New Years are hard times for so many more people than we realise.
I found christmas really tough but I found new years worse. I have been so utterly terrified of 2014 ending. I feel like as much as I want to say goodbye to this year I don’t want to comprehend being in 2015 – a year that Jonny will never, ever be a part of. Now rational people keep reminding me that, of course, I still have all the memories and whatever, but that’s no consolation. I don’t want the memories. I want to feel connected to Jonny and something as big as stepping out of a year he was apart of into a year he’ll never see is hugely upsetting.
I have been too ill to really leave the house and I spent new years eve curled up on the sofa with my mum waiting for the countdown. I cried on and off all evening. And then when the fireworks started on TV I didn’t really feel anything and I went to bed.
Such is my life now; a series of the deep emotional lows and then numbness for hours or days on end.
I’ll give you a quick rundown of the last month or two. I got a new job, that was good, I had a huge breakdown and left the job, left my house in London, got on a train home and cried in my mums house for a few days. I got dangerously suicidal and I visited the doctor to beg for a higher dose of anti-depressant which she agreed to. I spent the following week in bed, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get up.
And then I got ill.
So I’ve put everything to the back of my mind but now I need to start making major life decisions and I’m scared. All my possessions are in my house in London which I haven’t paid any rent for. I lost my job by never going back in. I have no money. I can’t just lie in bed for days on end smoking my lungs raw. I have to pick myself up again, for the sake of everyone around if not myself.
But it’s easy to pretend I’ll get back on my feet when I don’t actually have to try yet.
I’m using my illness as an excuse not to make crucial choices. I’m using my depression as an excuse not to get up or dressed everyday. I’m using my boyfriends death as an excuse to give up on everything.
But it really can’t stay this way.
I’m going to try and blog more, I’ve been so pre-occupied with coughing my guts up, drowning in antibiotics and painkillers and sleeping that I’ve neglected writing things down. But I shouldn’t because the support I’ve received from my posts on here has been one of the loveliest surprises I could’ve ever imagined.
Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with my posts.
Happy new year to you all, x