Breathe. Think. Relax.

So, my GP has, once again, confirmed my diagnosis. I am depressed. Not dangerously but certainly in need of some help. It stands to reason. In the last ten years I have had baby blues over the baby I couldn’t have, social services stress over the child we desperately wanted, and huge anxiety over my [now] ex-husbands affair. Add that to sleep depravation, divorce, house sales and trying to make a new relationship work. I am quite surprised I have not cracked before now. What have not had is a whole lot of closure; on anything.

I float from month to month thinking that time is making it all better and in some ways it is but I know that bubbling under the surface is a cauldron full of questions, anger and confusion and when it bubbles over it doesn’t so much as spit and spatter but boils over like…

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