I have my first nervous breakdown of the year while at work, and almost leave. I watch Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves in memory of Alan Rickman. I’m evicted from my home of eight years and have had the worst Christmas for that reason.
On Valentines Day we saw Deadpool and ate pizza. I unknowingly employed an unbelievably incapable person who will make my job a nightmare for the next ten months. I’m packing my life away.
We have the keys to our new house and eat Nando’s to celebrate, things may be looking up. Maybe. I disappear for the weekend to rehab and return with a slightly fresh perspective.
I admitted to the world that I’m bipolar and go social media cold turkey for a month. I can’t believe the response I get to admitting that I’ve lost my grip and the support received from total strangers. I’m secretly taking several medications at this point.
I plan a blog, but I’m held back by my fear of failing so I do nothing.
I’ve moved into the building site that is my home, after spending two solid months painting over the cracks of the structure. I’m at breaking point. I was rushing around too much and my feet brought me back down to earth- literally- whacked my face off the curb trying to be superwoman and lost a lot of blood. When I got back up my beloved country had left the European Union and an actor younger than me was crushed by his own car. I feel small.
The summer has been beautiful this year but it doesn’t stop my next breakdown from happening. I get sad again and wish that I could change my life while sitting on my plastic garden furniture under a parasol. I throw myself into gardening so I can cry outside undisturbed and get a tan simultaneously.
I’ve discovered Stranger Things on Netflix and lose myself in it. I don’t know what to do with myself when it’s over.
The house and my job are dragging me down and I decide I need to do something. I watch Bridget Jones’s Baby with my mom and sister, it made me laugh but afterwards made me sad that in real life there would be no happy ending for Bridget, like there will be no happy ending for me.
I feel old and lost. I endeavour to lose weight and do anything to feel happier again. I throw myself into the gym and force health food into my mouth. I stop wearing make-up and stop bothering with my appearance.
I sit in the cold winter air in front of a Bon fire and contemplate existence while Americans vote for a billionaire to rule their lives. The country sounds like a war zone for a few nights, which oddly puts my thoughts at peace for a short while. I long for the outdoors.
I spend money I shouldn’t on myself to mask my unhappiness. My living room is completed after seven months including a Christmas tree and all I can think of is handbags and make-up to cover my haggard face. I’ve had enough of the year and of everything and want a blank canvas or at least an escape route out of here.
In 2017 I hope to free myself in order to help others around me to survive another year.