What now?

I want to get better. I really do.

But knowing how to is not easy.

I feel like I’ve exhausted pretty much all of my options.

It leaves me feeling confused.

Why don’t any of the things on offer feel right?

Is it the illness talking, making me push away things that could ultimately be helpful?

I don’t know.

The hour I spent in the psych unit was an all-time low for me, but should I have stuck it out, given it a chance? Might I have found the answer in between the daytime TV and jigsaws?

Should I have kept going with the psychotherapy, even though it felt completely counterproductive?

I don’t know.

I’ve reached a point this weekend, though, where I know I need to do something. Because I want to be well again. I want to be a proper mummy, a proper wife, a proper friend. I want to enjoy things again. I want to feel confident in my ability to work, not terrified that I can’t cope. I want to actively want to do things with the children, and not feel exhausted afterwards. I want to stop feeling so sad, sad, sad all the time. And guilty, worthless, inept, etc etc etc.

I know that I have got to do something about the thoughts that keep dragging me back into the pit. For all that I feel the world would be better off without me, I need to resist those feelings and not give into the temptation to remove myself from it.

It’s hard. And scary. I can’t do it on my own. But there has to be a way, somehow. There has to be a way of recovering from this.

I want to find it. I just don’t know how.