The shock of my situation is sinking in. The adrenaline has died down and there is the reality of the hole I am now staring down. It’s a big hole I have dug myself. I will be lucky to get out of this one. I know it’s all my own fault too. I apparently have a death wish. I have to put it that way. Why else would I push it to the limit before I even start to wise up? It’s beyond me, I am thought to be a smart person. But when the Trauma returns, and I give in to my sorrow and depression and start to self-medicate with booze, thinking it’s ‘only booze’, I have no chance of thinking rationally. 

And that’s when I make these terrible decisions. I’m not a bad guy, honestly. But there is a dark side to me when I am this sick. Not sadistic (except to myself) but after just seeing my councillor it seems I want people to know how bad I feel. It’s the same as when I wanted my mum to know how awful it was for me in the dark room. 

The continuing irony is I am starting to feel better. The antidepressants are starting to kick in, work is hard but undoubtedly better than sitting around dwelling all day, and I even asked a pretty woman out today!

I was at a work induction course. We didn’t speak much but she was jolly and fun when we did so I purposely hung around to leave at the same time as her. We walked to the car park amongst small talk but as we parted I asked her if she’d like to have a drink one night. She laughed and said ‘yes!’. 

I’ll see if I can leave it until after work tomorrow and then I’ll send her a text. Am I ready? Probably not. But I have to start moving on and it’s better to fail trying that sit at home feeling sorry for yourself right?

Just for tonight, for the first night in 4 months, I shall go to sleep with s bit of hope I can get through this.