I don’t really know what I’m expecting from writing this but I just want to put it somewhere. Usual caveats around not hurting myself, not in any danger etc. I would never do that.
I just don’t want to do this any more. I’ve had depression since I was a young teenager. I think now that it’s because I’m autistic (been referred, waiting for assessment) and everything just feels like it wasn’t meant for me. I can’t handle things. Or if I do handle things, it takes a lot out of me to the point where it takes me a long time to get over them.
The example now being that we’ve just moved house. It’s meant a lot of contacting people I don’t know to do bits of work. That’s bad enough, but I’m currently spiralling about a bit of work that’s been done that I’m not sure is safe. It’s electrical work, so how would I know it’s safe - I’m not an electrician, that’s what I pay them for. It sounds so stupid written down. But today I’m going to have to find another electrician to come and check the work of the first electrician…my brain just won’t switch off from it and then I get upset because surely this isn’t what everyone goes through with every little thing that happens in their lives? I could just not get the work done, but the house doesn’t feel like my home at the moment and that also makes me uncomfortable and unable to relax and like this was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I can’t put any more on DH. He has a stressful job which we need him to keep because I don’t work.
This is just the latest example. This has been my whole life. It is physically painful for me to exist because everything that I should be able to do, I can’t. Everything I should enjoy is followed with something that makes me sad. I’ve had jobs in the past that I’ve loved and given up because I was scared of losing them so it was easier to run away than be chucked out. I don’t work at the moment and can’t see a way back in.
I am so fortunate. I have a brilliant DH and a daughter who is my whole world. I have a new house. I have family who sort of understand that I’m not totally okay and don’t push me.
I’m not on any medication at the moment. I’ve tried so many in my life and I just don’t think they work for me. They make me fatter and slower. I slept through my daughter’s early years because I was so medicated. I speak to an NHS psychiatrist every six months or so and last time he prescribed venlafaxine but I can’t take it because I’m worried I won’t be able to function. But I’m not functioning anyway. I’ve just finished six weeks of talking therapy which was basically just having nice chats with someone.
Thanks for reading if you’ve got that far. And again for the avoidance of doubt, I wouldn’t hurt myself.