January 20th Monday.

Yesterday was a hard day that seemed to last forever. The day was so long.

I've been the cafe this morning and I tried to involve myself in the conversation as much as I could. I have to push myself to talk. I have nothing to say anymore. It's so sad. Grief is horrible. I just keep thinking to myself that in a couple of years I'll be better won't I? My mental health is shockingly poor. I've just got no interest in being alive and that's so sad.

I keep thinking I need a job to get me out of this house and then I remember how bad my anxiety is some days. It's a task some days to leave the house so how the fuck am I meant to go to work. I'm so depressed it's unreal.

Here I am again blogging about how shit my life is. I hate been stuck in this house, it drives me insane. I have to remind myself that I'm not alone in the way I feel. 

I can imagine there's alot of people that feel the way I do. Doesn't make it any easier though.

My days consist of doing washing and dishes, and cooking. It's like groundhog day every day and only I can change this I know. But how? 

I can't wait see my psychiatrist so I can unload about the way I feel. 

I hate getting out of bed in the morning, I wish I could just get into bed and stay there until I feel better, but I have Jesse so it's not possible. I have to get up and be a mum. I don't know where the strength to carry on is coming from if I'm honest. I wake up every morning, and I look forward to going back to bed. I can only imagine that sleeping is like being dead.