It’s been one of those weeks where things don’t go according to plan. I had a dishwasher fitted last weekend, a concession to try and make life easier. But on Monday I discovered the first of several leaks, one of which leaked through the ceiling of the floor below, leading to the Plumber needing to make three more visits over the course of the week. Even now I’ve still got a small hole in my sink which will need to be plugged. What was supposed to make life easier turned into a monumental headache. Oh the irony!
I reached points on several of those days where I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. It’s hard to run a house and stay on top of everything on your own whilst chronically ill. It makes me long for a partner to share the load with, but that seems like a distant dream. I’ve been trying online dating, using a Christian app to try and find someone who also shares my faith. But the Christian world is very small, too small, everyone knows someone I know. I’d been chatting to a guy for a while who seemed nice and I had a lot in common with, we were due to meet this week whilst he was in the area. However, he backed out after chatting to someone ‘we both know’ and deciding he couldn’t give me what I needed.
It was a classic ‘it’s not you it’s me’ message which on face value should be reassuring. The problem is I have no idea who he talked to about me, it’ll almost definitely be someone from work. It’s likely that person will have known something about my mental health journey, which I hadn’t shared with him because that to me is a face to face conversation. I don’t know what they told him. I found it unsettling partly because it feels like I lost the right to tell my own story in my own words, a loss of control. But mainly because I’ll have to walk around work not knowing who knows what about my personal life.
It’s added to the volume at which I can feel my body clock ticking. There’s nothing I want more than to have children of my own and at 31, compared to many of my peers, I am already running late. And I can’t help but wonder is anyone going to take me on with all the baggage I come with?
All of this feels like a bigger deal because I’m still unwell. I’ve seen no improvement in my fatigue in the six weeks since I started my Thyroid medication. I’m so tired that there’s often nothing left in the tank. I’ve handled the situation this far with what resembles stoicism. I don’t know if I’m putting on a brave face or just disconnecting and not processing what’s happening. It feels like my life is passing me by with me barely an active participant in it. I’ve lost months to this haze of exhaustion and brain fog and the end isn’t yet in sight. I miss my job. I’m frustrated that this time off will put me even further behind my peers at work. There were things that I wanted to do this year which now seem unlikely. And it’s the time of year where everyone is going off on holiday creating a feeling of being left behind. I want my life back.
I’m struggling with my mental health, both the depression and the eating disorder, fuelled by the isolation and weight gain caused by my under active Thyroid. I’m angry with community mental health that have discharged me to handle this alone. Frustrated that I’m not under the care of an Eating Disorder Service that I can call up for advice and reassurance. The system is broken but somewhere along the way I’ve internalised that and I feel like the one who’s broken.
It’s been one of those weeks where I don’t want to adult alone any more with everything on my shoulders. I don’t want to have to fight so hard for support. To be the one who has to pick up the phone. I don’t want life to be this hard all the time. I just want to rage at the world that it’s not fair. Can it just be easier, please?
Some days you just can’t and sometimes there isn’t anything you can do about it. It’s okay to not be okay. Okay to get that ready meal out of the freezer for dinner. It’s okay to let the house be a mess and delay doing washing because you just can’t face it. It’s okay to give up for a while and go and take a nap.

These days will pass if you can just get through them. If you can batten down the hatches until the storm passes. There’s hope that tomorrow will be a better day. And I believe in a Jesus that is with us in the heat of our anger, with us in the darkness of despair, sat with us in the dust and the dirt of life. I still believe He can redeem even our most difficult days.