Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Cunting depression. I seemed to have moved from scratching myself as punishment/because I hurt to using scissors for no fucking reason at all. and I can't even do that jeffing right, and barely broke the skin . Spent most of the day in bed because I have the dubious luxury of being signed off work, and DH kindly took DD to the childminder, but managed to shower at 430, and mostly so I could wash my new piercing and make dinner DH asked me to and I didn't want to let him down
I'm pretty damn sure that if I was at work I'd be staring at the computer screen and/or faffing off on here again but at least I'd be honest in my "general admin" time for a change... shortly before getting diagnosed I giggled to myself about "what if" if justified my non-chargable time accurately... so instead of saying "tidied desk" for a few hours, the accurate description would read "sat on mumsnet to try and avoid thinking of throwing myself off the balcony"... I'd probably be spending all day doing fuck all but at least I'd be around people and balconies, wonder how many would get a day off after watching me fall/having to clean up the mess? and have a reason to get out of the jeffing bed. As it is, I feel fucking worse for being off. WTF.