I’ve been diagnosed with depression.

Oh, hooray.

To be honest, this is not a massive shock. I’ve been having major sleeping problems for the last few months (some of which has been down to problems with my bed, but not all), I’m still living a life where I’m spending 95% of my time completely alone, I’ve been extremely busy, and I’ve had a very hard knock in the book being turned down – more so, simply because of the fact that I could really do with something significant in my life changing. And right now, it isn’t going to. Simple as that.

The last couple of weeks have been really hard, and it’s been getting difficult even to concentrate – I’ve been nowhere near as efficient as I usually am in getting work done, and life has generally been getting on top of me. The failure of my marriage has been back lurking in the background of my head ever since October, and it’s like the book being turned down has just turned the volume up. The only way I’m going to get myself out of this situation is by being determined, working hard, and getting myself on. There’s a whole selection of things that I need to do in my head, and I’m damn well going to do them.

But I’m also realising now that the next few months are going to be quite hard. I’m going to be getting some counselling, and I’m not ruling out other options as well. The last few days have been really difficult though – I’ve felt at times like I’m crumbling into bits, and it’s rather hard to keep myself together. I haven’t had much energy for anything other than the bare minimum I need to do to get through the day – being ill with a very unpleasant cold that’s essentially been hanging around my system for three months doesn’t really help either. And, to be honest, that’s one of the reasons why this blog has been dead quiet. I don’t like posting here when the only thoughts I can think of to write down are miserable ones. I’m kind of bored of being miserable, and lonely, and feeling broken. It’s too much like hard work. And I’m not going to let it completely control my life.

I am at least doing some sensible things as well. I’m going back to Cornwall for two weeks, and I’m extremely glad I’m doing it now. There were a couple of moments where the idea of being down there felt like a little too long – I tend to get cabin fever if I’m anywhere longer than a week, and while staying with family is always lovely, there’s also often a point where you start counting down until you leave. But right now, knowing that there’s only eighteen days until I get on a plane, and then I really don’t have to worry about anything and am going to be looked after for two weeks is really, really nice. I’m going to try and get plenty of writing done over those two weeks, but I am also going to actually (shock! horror!) relax.

I don’t want to define myself by what happened anymore. I want to be able to feel like the happiness I once felt, a long time ago, is something I can get back. That it’s not dependant on being with someone, that I’m capable of being happy on my own. I want to remember how to be happy. And I want to move on.

I’ll try and update like this a bit more. And, whatever happens, I will be okay.

Saxon Bullock. Sturdier than he looks…