It’s that wonderful time of year again: the oil seed rape fields are blooming, soaking the air with their sick-sweet pollen scent.
I don’t do well around this time of year. I’m fine until I leave the house for work in the morning. By the time I’ve covered the eight miles to work my throat is clogged up, my nose is running and I have a headache.
Puts me in the perfect mood for dealing with events at work at the moment.
It finally hit me yesterday morning that after six years I’m going to be out of work in about two weeks. I haven’t enjoyed much of my time in the factory but love working in the technical department; I haven’t made any friends so I won’t miss anyone but I have met a wide variety of people and got along with most of them; I’ve had the opportunity to work on my writing and explore a few possible ideas for future jobs. I have grown up somewhat while working here.
And now it’s all ending.
I’ve had a bit of a relapse depression wise. I spent yesterday with a great gaping grey hole in my belly. I spent most of the afternoon in bed pretty much unconcerned with the world because I couldn’t see past the anxiety. I didn’t sleep last night either.
I got up this morning very tired but other than that I felt fine, even positive. I hoped it was a sign of some recovery; a year ago I would have been crying and spent the rest of the week in bed.
Unfortunately, as the morning has progressed I’ve slowly sunk in to the depression again. Currently on my break writing this and feeling nothing. There’s a void where emotion once abode.
I need to act, to do something to help me move forward or I’ll end up back in the pit again.