Pushing on

The only thing I can do is to keep moving forwards.  I have to be my own superhero. It’s the only way.  I have to admit I actually do a lot in life even when I’m in inner turmoil. I keep going to work, I have to, and keep an outward look of being ok.  It keeps me going I guess. Everything I do I try to keep doing and keep going.  I try my hardest and it’s all good.  Life can be very shitty but generally it’s pretty cool. It is what it is.  Today I’m glad I’m me and that’s enough. 

Anxiety is a bitch

Huge anxiety again over several things. I’m still awaiting a payment from someone. There’s a couple of snags on a job that are easily sorted but also one which I can’t get my head around. Money is non existent and I’ve still not paid the mortgage. People think running a business is a money making machine but a very small business is often far from that.  It’s famine and feast with mostly famine.  I’m not sure what I can do to change things as my head isn’t quite right.  I’ve got meds again and am seriously considering going up to a slightly higher dose again.  I’ll see once they kick in again at this dose. Death is strong in my mind in many ways.  A friend phoned last night to check on me.  I’ve not had that happen before.  I’m touched by it.  He’s a good guy.  I’m just not used to it I guess.  I walk a lonely path. Maybe it’s time to broaden that pathway. 

Cut me down and I grow back stronger

Every time I break or get knocked down I get back up stronger. I mend. I’m resilient. I grow. I find a way back on track.  I will never be beaten fully as long as I have a breath in my body.  I fight and continue to fight.  The older I get the more I realise how fortunate I am in life and how much I’ve learned in life so far.  I wish I could help others more than I do. Maybe one day I’ll find a way and find more strength so I can actively help others.  I don’t know yet but if I can I’ll find a way. Life is what it is and I am lucky to have loving support.  I’m not always easy to be around but when I’m well I try to support people back. A friend checked in on me a few nights ago as he was worried about me and how much I was posting on Facebook about death.  It really meant a lot to me and possibly more than he’ll ever know.  He was right.  I was obsessing with death. I’d been looking at trees again looking at their nice high strong branches which I could hang myself from.  I told nobody about it but it obviously came out online in things.  Luckily it was yet another dip and blip.  It’ll soon be the anniversary of my fathers death and I know this is what has affected me.  I knew beforehand too but it doesn’t stop it happening.  Im a survivor.  


What to say? How much? How little?  I’m off meds. Not exactly by choice but I’ve ran out and the prescription isn’t ready. I’ve no money to pay for it at the minute either.  I’m awaiting money from customer, as usual, so I’m skint. I’ve missed last months mortgage payment too. I’ve had the builders merchants chase me as my account was over due.  It’s shit.  Such is life.  The harder I work to get ahead the further behind I get.  I personal bank with Lloyd’s and they rob me blindly because I use an agreed overdraft. They charge me daily for using it up to a total of £90 each month and they make sure they take about that much. So over the 18 or so months they’ve been doing it they’ve been taking about £90 a month. That’s rather a lot and yet another reason why I’m always in my overdraft. I get charged for going over the overdraft, when I do go over, and it’s usually because they’ve charged me why I go over.  If I did this to a customer I’d get taken to court for theft. If a bank does it then it’s ok.  It’s shit. I can’t see an end to the debts either at this rate.  Ever.  

Is suicide painless

The lyrics to the song say that suicide is painless. Is it? Really? Who for?

 I’m shattered. I went to sleep early last night only to wake a bit early. I did manage to drift off again. It was a night of odd dreams.  I can’t remember them all but I know they were vivid.  One of them must of affected me badly as I woke up feeling slightly odd and contemplating suicide. Very strange.  Obviously I didn’t take it further.  Who knows what the mind truly does to itself.  I’m tired. It’s doing my head in.  I do my own head in.

 In other news there’s now 14,777 subscribers to this blog. I wonder how many are robots. I have heard that a friend elsewhere in the country had this blog recommended to him by someone in his mental health team. How funny is that. 

Too much stress

My life is far too stressful.  I’ve had enough of it. I woke up before 5am with huge anxiety this morning. One of our cats sat on me because I’d woken up.  I’m chasing money yet again. Every year I tell myself it will be different, I’m certain this year will be, but it seems like Groundhog Day over and over.  I’m tired of the stress, tired of working so much, tired of how much of my mental capacity is taken up by it all.  I feel I never relax. I never take time off for a break from it.  It will be the death of me.  I see others around me who seem to do so much better and work much less.  I can’t figure it out.  Nothing makes sense anymore.  I’m sure it will pass.  I hate all of the fucking clichés people quote.  They’re shit.  Bipolar does my fucking head in. Nothing makes sense most of the time.  What’s the difference between being well and thinking you’re well? Delusion. Does anyone actually have their shit together?  My memory isn’t great again.  So much to get on with. I put myself down and each day I kill myself a little bit more. 

Today was a good day….

Today I’ve felt good. I’ve got lots done. Now I wish I were back at work. It would seem I’m not allowed to be jolly or jovial in my own house.  I’m fucking sick of it.  Maybe it’s time I looked for somewhere else to live.  I’ve had a week of really bad stomach upset. I’ve had time off work over it. I’m back at it now though.  I’ve got to be. I’m a walking fucking wallet and I’m sick of it.  I’ve wirked my fucking fits off for the 10 years we’ve lived where we do. I’ve fought through severe mental illness. I’ve fought through almost being broke every 3 months lately.  I’ve fought through far too fucking much. Fuck it all. It can all fuck off. My wife is miserable whoever I’m in a good mood. My daughter swears at me and tells me to fuck off.  I think I finally get the message. They want me to fuck off. Maybe I actually will. Fuck it all. Sell the house and pocket half what’s left after the mortgage is paid. I doubt it’ll be too much as the house is in need of shit doing to it.  Not least a new boiler.  Time I started loving for myself instead of being a slave to a huge fucking debt that was put upon me months after my mum died. How fucking cruel. Pushing me to sell and move house months after my mums death. No time to grieve.  Ever. Nope. Just wait a few years and mentally crack badly and live through 12-18 months of a mental breakdown while still having to work and pay most of the bills.  It can all FUCK OFF. 

Tired of debt and unwell

Wednesday was Kara’s birthday.  All went well until the evening when I felt really cold.  By 9pm I was shaking with a chill so I had a hot shower and got into bed.  From then onwards I had a really upset stomach, which still hasn’t settled,  and I had to take yesterday off work as I slept nearly all day.  It’s still not letting up.  I really do need to go back today as I’m now behind but I’m not sure I can.  It’s really playing on my mind because I need to get money in as I’ve my mortgage to pay late next week and early next week money goes out of the business to the tax office.   I’m sick and tired of working so hard, recently I’ve even been to work on a Sunday briefly, only for it to get sucked away.   I bank with Lloyds for my personal accounts and they’re screwing me over constantly.  They have a daily overdraft fee and can take up to £90 per month in those fees, which they do every month.  It’s an agreed overdraft at that! It’s a rigged system to keep people poor.  I’m sick of living like this.  Things are that tight that one day off work with the fucking shits and a fever could just about break me.  That’s not living.  It’s not even surviving ffs.  I’m really not sure I will be able to go I even for a few hours.   It’s killing me slowly.  I’ve spoken with Kara and we might up our mortgage, meaning more debt, to clear some other debts off to try to get a bit ahead again.  We certainly need to get ahead.  She’s working 7 days a week too.   It’s crazy and it’s a killer.