Wendolene

6 and a half months of progress down the drain in a matter of seconds. . .

This evening, everything fell down on top of me in a heap, and I had a glass of red wine and went for a walk in the sunshine. I kept walking, and walking, until I felt I needed someone and rang my mum in tears.

I'm going to be honest here. At first, it felt kind of liberating, like I was sticking my middle finger up at everything that has been making life so difficult for me.

My partner and I have had a somewhat stagnant relationship for a while now. There has been little affection as of late, as my anxiety and OCD gets too much for him to handle. We have fought, and my therapist even said he talks about me as if he is looking down on me (I thought it would be good to go for part of the session together). My doctor keeps switching medication, as if I'm some sort of human guinea pig, whereas the one thing that works for me, Valium, I am not allowed (UK GPs are very strict with it), and I'm treated like a naughty schoolgirl if I go and ask for some. It's just another alcohol substitute, after all (but doesn't kill you as quickly if taken as prescribed!). I have had little success with antidepressants in the past, with them making me suicidal and even more anxious (and I have persevered with them for longer than perhaps I should have done), yet now she wants me to try another one. I feel like I have hit a dead end with my life. I have no job, no life, and some days leaving the house and having a shower is too much to handle.

This all sounds like a bunch of excuses, to be honest, and I'm not proud of what I've done. I've spent a lot of the evening crying. I don't actually want any more and fully intend to stick to this. I'm just cross that a spur of the moment stressful event (involving an argument between my partner and I when I got back from work) has cost me my hard-earned sobriety.