Dear Diary

A short written piece, about how it is (for me) to live with depression and anxiety.

Written between March 2017 and January 2018

Dear Diary,

Today was a good day. I was working with one of the people I most like working with. Six hours of work that turned into six hours of fun... I was almost sad that I was only working a half day. I wanted to stay and continue to enjoy those moments, as they are always so few and far between. Instead a bid a quick farewell and left as quickly as I could without seeming far too keen.

Dear Diary,

Today was a bad day. I was working with one of the people I most dislike working with. Ten hours of this... it's always more stressful, and I always feel so much more uncomfortable... but I stick to it, I work, I push through until 6 pm rolls around and I get to leave and the weight on my shoulders can be placed down until the next time I am back here.

Dear Diary,

It's my day off today. Do I sleep in late? Revel in the fact that I can just stay in bed if I wanted to... or do I rise early, and grab the day by the gonads, go out and walk and see the world, music in my mind and a jolly gait about my step? I can never decide, and though I rise around anywhere between 8 and 11 in the morning, it's always too early, but then it's also too late. The day goes by with my nose in my computer, browsing the internet and with a constant attempt at ignoring the mounting anxiety that the notion of work tomorrow always brings. The day is wasted.

Dear Diary,

Work called me. They wanted me to come in early, we're short staffed. Again. The phone call woke me from my slumber at 7 am, but I ignored it, the rush of panic that rose up to greet me did not, and I fell back into sleep, although with a restless feeling and anxiety bubbling in the bottom of my stomach.

When I got up to get ready for the day, I kept my phone off, determined to make sure that if they were to call again on my mobile, they'd not get through. I ate breakfast, and it made the nausea worse. It continued to build; the anxiety was like a storm in my body. I felt lightheaded and sick, and I was shaking. I was terrified.

When I got to work, they told me they rang, that I did not answer. Anxiety hit me like a brick and all I could do was look confused and shrug my shoulders as if I did not understand. Six hours felt like sixty.

Dear Diary,

Work didn't call this morning... it should calm me, console me in the fact that I am not avoiding anything this time... but then I think, perhaps they are complaining about me while I am not there to defend myself (not that I would).

They are saying "do not bother, she won't answer". They are right, but I would never tell them that. I eat breakfast, and I feel sick afterwards. I spend the morning trying to distract myself... I hate afternoon shifts, you have to wait around for them and can't do anything but panic and worry about where you'll be working, who you'll be working with and whether or not you'll be asked to work a long shift tomorrow when you're meant to finish at 2 pm.

If they ask, you'll say no. If they ask why, you'll tell them you have a doctor's appointment, or that you're going to visit your grandfather. If the boss asks, you deflate, excuse yourself so you can "check with your mum", then you cry to yourself, tell your mother she doesn't need to come pick you up tomorrow.