Return of the Black Dog


It’s hard for me to sit here and write this.


For the last three or four weeks I’ve been feeling dead inside, cold and closed off to everything. It’s been steadily getting harder and harder for me to feel emotion, my face feels like it’s made of lead and all I want to do is lie on the ground and cry all the time.


When it first started I said to one of the guys that I work with that it’d either go one way or another. I honestly thought it’d clear up, I’ve had bouts like this before but they’ve never lasted longer than a couple of weeks. This is just getting worse and worse.


I’ve already lapsed on the self harm front, I’ve been ignoring people and sabotaging relationships, I’ve been avoiding getting help and go from caking on make-up one day to hide how I feel to wearing nothing the next because I just don’t care.


I’m behind with my work, I can’t think straight to learn my lines, I don’t have enough energy to rehearse… and to be perfectly honest, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore.


Whilst on one hand that feels wonderfully liberating it means that I’m in danger of failing my course, letting down the people that I work with and ruining my personal relationships.


Kay has spoken to me several times over the last few weeks about doing something about it, she said a while ago that she thought I was depressed- as time has gone on she’s gotten more and more insistent with that observation.


Tomorrow I’m going to try and get a Doctor’s appointment. I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to care enough to do it, find a way to get there or even actually attend, but I think I’m going to try. Kay isn’t taking no for an answer and some tiny part of me does appreciate that… other parts of me want to cut, pick up random men and quit everything.


If I do get and attend the appointment I don’t know what they’ll suggest, I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark at medication… and I’m really not sure how I feel about that. I’m sick of the anxiety that I carry around with me and I’m sick of the nothingness that I’m feeling (well, not feeling) I hate feeling dead inside all the time, I hate panicking all the time, I hate, hate, hate not being able to live my life because my brain is fucking everything up.


‘til next time,


Wren x



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