Shit.
Six month redundancy process, deliberately dragged out to make people give up and leave before they got their entitlement. Toxic working place anyhow, so would have bitten their hand off if they'd just said at the outset, you are going, that won't change, so here's the money and you don't have to work your fucking arse off for the remaining five months so we feel like we've got our pound of flesh from you.
Brother died. Had to deal with relatives, including abuser, flying monkeys and golden child. And go back to work to deal with the redundancy in the middle of it. And find out in the midst of that that other relative I liked/didn't abuse me is terminally ill. Followed by the usual rejection from the relatives, who never wanted me to know in the first place. Now being chased by his pension fund for confirmation that I want his death in service benefit to go to the main abuser. If I say no, the shitstorm that would follow would be insane. So I'm ignoring the letters, which is probably also annoying them, but I changed phone number when I dropped my phone last month, so don't have contact details for them - or anybody I actually rather like in terms of friends/work contacts.
Got another job, but wasn't emotionally ready for it, DP had made no effort to get anything until I crashed and burned, at which point, I was already into the new contract. Had he sorted his shit out earlier, I could have actually taken the time I needed, possibly some counselling, maybe retraining, and not gone into a very similar workplace.
New job is less toxic but incredibly demanding mentally and physically.
Humira isn't working.
After 46 years of a lifelong condition (a number of them, actually), I overloaded and couldn't complete the PIP renewal because I couldn't cope with the form, never mind another fucking medical. So I'm officially cured. Yay. Not allowed to be ill now. Ever.
DP has job that doesn't quite pay enough to cover everything, but now wants to go back to his old hobby which he comprehensively failed at making a living from, allegedly just as a hobby, but is already talking about When The Money Starts Coming In. I just want him to have a fulltime, steady job like everybody else. I've had to have one to support him for five years, it's about time he reciprocated.
And I look like fucking shit on a stick, I've got tinnitus on one side due to the damage sustained from the last job laughing at my concerns about behaviour and noise damage, although with one of the lifelong degenerative conditions making me more susceptible in the first place and that means it is never quiet and I can't earn a living in music anymore.
So yeah, this has been pretty shit as years go.