The Blog With Nothing To Say

I haven't died. I haven't gone missing. I haven't been abducted by aliens.

I haven't posted for a long time because I've felt that I haven't anything really worthwhile to contribute.

I've had a shite year, full of stress, poor mental wellbeing and physical sickness - who the fuck gets gout at 27?! I mean seriously?!

I feel like nothing is clicking in my life, and I know a large part of it is down to me. Nothing is going my way so my head's dropped and I'm not chasing things because I'm approaching them from a profoundly negative "nothing goes my way this won't either why bother" attitude. I don't feel the enthusiasm or motivation I should to escape from this rut at this point.

As such I haven't felt like I've had anything to contribute. Throughout my life I've been fighting the idea that's seemingly from nowhere tattooed on my psyche that "I'm nothing special" and this year hasn't been great in terms of that battle. Maybe getting this off my chest is the first step to getting back to being myself. 

I've gotten out of this rut before, but it doesn't make the climb any easier. 

Look after yourselves.

Fuck it and fight it. 

X

World Mental Health Day

I have seen a number of posts referring to the importance of World Mental Health Day. Rightfully so. It's a frightfully important subject and it's only right that awareness is raised.

But it's simply not enough.

Going through my social media I've seen stories of people seeking urgent assistance with their mental wellbeing only to be met with a 34 week wait. I myself have only recently started a course of CBT over the phone after seeking assistance for over a year.

What is the point in encouraging people to open up when there is nobody there to help them? I would never want to do anything to put people off discussing their mental health but it is not enough to just encourage this. More has to be done to help.

Since 2011 mental health trusts - in spite of frequent government promises of record spending - have suffered in real terms losses of their annual budgets, the number of people dying by suicide has more than doubled in some areas and the resources available to those who reach out are rapidly diminishing.

But the UK Government have come out and launched a new campaign with a catchy new name and probably a good hashtag so that'll help.

If you're struggling please do reach out. Please do talk about how you are feeling. But do not think it is acceptable for you to be treated as a second-class citizen. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be healthy. You deserve to exist.

You're more than a hashtag. You're here and you matter.

Fuck it and fight it
X

The Unforgiven

I feel like I'm a walking waste of potential and there's nobody to blame but myself.

I have ideas I want to pursue but talk myself out of them before even trying. I get halfway through job applications then just abandon them because I know I'm not going to get it. I have creative ideas I want to try out but don't because I'm terrified of having it confirmed to me that they're shite ideas, executed in a shite manner because I'm shite.

I'm stuck in this awful loop. I'm terrified of being a failure which means I don't try things which means nothing changes which makes me feel like a failure. I'm just stagnating and can't find the motivation to get out of this rut and I hate it.

I really fucking hate it. And it's my own fault I'm in this rut. Because every time things seem to be going well I find a way to kick myself back into it.

I never give myself any credit and don't see my achievements as achievements but rather as glorified failures.

I'm not flying, I'm falling with style.

And I don't know how to stop thinking this way, which just makes me frustrated and irritable and not fun to be around.

I want to get better. I want to be more positive. But I don't know how or where to start. I will keep fighting and trying because what other choice do I have?

I'm starting CBT soon, hopefully that'll help. Hopefully it'll help pull me out of the mire I've got myself stuck in again. Hopefully I'll be able to overcome this mental block and get back to doing things. Because I'm not willing to give up yet. I'm not dead yet. I can still fix this. Then maybe I can forgive myself.

What I've felt
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown
Never be
Never see
Won't see what might have been
What I've felt
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub thee unforgiven

Fuck it and fight it x

Leigh Leigh Super Leigh

On Saturday I took my dad to the Celtic - St Johnstone match as his Father's Day gift. Throughout my struggles with my head my family have been a tremendous source of love and support, and I love being able to spend happy times with them because their have been a lot of less happy times.

It was Flag Day - the first game of the new season, an opportunity to celebrate the success of the previous season and, considering how much the two of us love Celtic, a great day out.

The match ended 7-0 Celtic with a number of great goals scored but one in particular meant more to me than the others; the final goal, scored by Leigh Griffiths.

It was Griffiths first league appearance for Celtic in 8 months after taking time to recover from mental health issues - not something often discussed in football. Since his return to the squad Griffiths has opened up about his mental health and shared his experience in the hope that it will help others to open up and help them with their battles.

The goal he scored he took well but it was a cherry on top - the game had been won long before his shot hit the back of the net - yet it meant so much for me to see him back on top of his game.

I always love seeing people who have been in a dark place come out the other side of it, be it friends finding happiness in a new career, or a new relationship, or finally achieving a dream which once seemed so far out of their reach. Seeing others do it helps me know that I can get through the darkness as well. Celebrating someone doing that with 50,000 others appreciating that same fact was something that felt very special. Sharing that with my dad made it even more special.

Fuck it and fight it.
Hail hail.

We're (Over) Halfway There

We're coming to the end of July and this year has been a weird one so far.

It hasn't been a bad one, although there have been a lot of frustrations and rough patches, but it hasn't been great.

I don't feel that I've developed much at all, in terms of professional life, personal life and my mental health. I feel that I have stagnated and let myself fall into a familiar hole. And despite the fact it's a familiar hole, I never seem able to find the bloody ladder out.

I've reached out for help again, and put myself in for CBT over the phone. Maybe not as appealing as doing it face-to-face, but a 4 week wait was much more appealing than a 34 week wait (at best). However, the wait in getting started has served to increase this frustration. Another thing that, for now, isn't improving or changing.

I'm still an expert in beating myself up, and find myself in a state of dissociation far more often than I would like. Either nothing matters all that much or the smallest thing going wrong feels like a complete and utter catastrophe. This only ever seems to work when it comes to negative things, never positives. My achievements don't feel like achievements, but rather glorified failures.

I know that I need to rewire my brain to try and get out of this mindset - I have been told this often enough by a number of different people. I just don't know how to. I desperately want to but I don't where to start.

Fuck it and fight it.
X

Stormy Weather

Sometimes the perfect metaphor just presents itself in plain sight.

Today I was stood at the bottom of Edinburgh's Royal Mile looking west at an approaching black storm cloud knowing I'd have to head into it in order to get home.

It's been three years since I started working and first moved to Edinburgh. Part of my reason for doing this was due to an opportunity presenting itself. Part of it was down to seeking a new challenge. But a large part of it was that I was running. Running from my unhappiness, from my mental health issues, from everything that I felt was paralysing me back home.

I told myself it would be a fresh start, a clean slate, a renaissance, all the kind of shite you come up with when you're lying to yourself. In an incredible display of naivety I thought that a change of scenery was all that was required for life to become happy again.

Shockingly, it didn't quite work out that way.

Three years on I'm still fighting the demons I once thought I could run away from. Turns out that they can travel too. But I am getting better at fighting them. Part of the reason for this is that I inadvertently trapped myself with them. I was in a strange place with few friends so I ended up spending more time alone with them for company. It wasn't pleasant, but it was certainly an education.

It's not a fight that's going to end, there's no real way to permanently clear the storm clouds from the sky, but I know that the storms can't last forever, though sometimes I need to remind myself of that fact. And even in the stormy weather I can have fun in the rain.

I have no intention of running anymore. I know that it's futile. I know my demons are here for the long haul. I know that there will always be black clouds and storms ahead. I also know that after the storms there's sun and to make the most of it when the skys are blue.

I'm not running from my demons, I'm heading back to brave the storm.

Fuck it and fight it
X

The Most Frustrating Words In The English Language

"It'll get better."

"This will pass."

"The night is always darkest before the dawn."

They're always said with the best of intentions but after a while the stop being a source of comfort. And what's worst is you know that they're true. It just hasn't come true for you yet.

It feels like instead of a night you have six months of Arctic darkness to fight through and there's no sign of the dawn light piercing the black sky that hangs heavily overhead.

It feels like you won't get better. It feels like you can't. The negative voice drowns out any rational thought and any positivity and optimism disappears down a black hole. The night appears endless and the promise of a dawn as false as the good life you were promised if you played the game.

Fuck that.

You can get better. You will get better. It'll be a long journey and not an easy one but you can manage it. And eventually you'll reach the dawn.

Just keep fighting.

Fuck it and fight it.
X

Little April Showers

I feel a black cloud coming down over me again.

It's a very romantic way of saying that it feels like everything is fucked just now. It's much nicer than saying that my anxiety is through the roof, I'm easily frustrated to the verge of snapping and it doesn't feel like things will ever get better.

It's not as pleasing on the ear but it's a far more honest assessment of my situation. It's more real, it's harsher, it's scarier.

And for that reason it can be harder to open up about it.

If you think that it's scary being told that people can see you deteriorating,   it's nowhere near as scary as seeing yourself deteriorate.

Seeing the smile fade when you catch your reflection. Catching yourself getting angry at tiny situations. Overthinking every little mistake and every wee signal until it feels like there's a riot in your head.

People often say that life is peaks and troughs. I'm in a trough just now, and it's shite. Because I don't want to be here. Nobody does. And I know I can get out of it, but I've got a hell of a climb in front of me.

I know I'm slipping. I know you can probably see it. I can see it. Please bear with me. I'm trying my best.

Fuck it and fight it.

Daddy sad

So I was a lot quieter on this last year than I had expected. There were a number of reasons for this, but one of the main reasons was quite a biggy.

I became a dad.

My partner has a 2-year-old from a previous relationship and the biological father is nowhere to be seen. So as our relationship went on I became a more prominent figure in her life. I became her father figure. And its not been easy, but it is more than worth every tantrum, every cheeky reply, every time she hits.

But there is one particular aspect that is frustrating and uplifting at the same time; she has no understanding of what depression and anxiety are.

It's frustrating because if you're having a down day she won't care. No matter how shite you feel she'll still want someone to play hide & seek with. She'll need someone to feed her properly when you can't be bothered cooking a proper meal. She'll want to go to the park on days when getting out of bed feels like running a marathon.

But it's uplifting at the same time as no matter how much you doubt yourself, how useless you feel, how much you hate yourself that day, she'll always remind you that you matter. That your making a positive difference. That you're loved.

I'm going to try and get back into blogging properly this year. If I fall away for a bit, I'm probably just playing hide & seek.

Have a wonderful 2019.
Fuck it and fight it.

I am fucking sick of being mentally ill

I don't like moaning about my mental health but I need a rant.

Things appeared to be going alright for a while, and instead of enjoying I spent a lot of the time worrying, waiting for things to go wrong.

Well fuck me have they gone wrong.

I've burned myself out, big time. For the first time in my life I've been signed off. Things that aren't worth getting annoyed at enrage me beyond reason. There are external factors at work too but I can't do a lot to stop them. My anxiety and depression feel like they are through the roof at times.

I'm worrying that I'm falling into that same old pit I found myself in for almost two years. Some days I feel I'm in it, others like I'm circling it.

I'm fed up with being so irritable. With not finding enjoyment in old hobbies. With constantly feeling like I'm shite. I'm fed up with feeling like a crap friend, boyfriend, workmate etc. I'm fed up with feeling like I'm failing and can't prevent it. I'm fed up with feeling these things when deep down I know they're not true because unfortunately the voice reminding me of that fact is much quieter than the one telling me I'm shite.

I am fucking sick of being mentally ill.

Fuck it and fight it.

One More Light

A year ago today I was starting to come out of one of the darkest chapters in my life in the wake of a severe depressive episode at the end if spring/start of summer. I was walking home from work and jumped into a takeaway at the foot of Leith Walk for my dinner. Whilst I was waiting for my food, I checked my phone and saw the awful news that Chester Bennington had passed away.

Whilst I wasn't what you would call a die-hard fan of Linkin Park, they were a band that you would find on every one of my CDs, mp3s, spotify playlists, whatever. The first CD I ever bought with my own pocket money was Hybrid Theory and it helped open up a world to me in which I met many wonderful people and made many friends I most likely wouldn't have otherwise met. Friends I still have to this day.

Their music and lyrics, particularly on Hybrid Theory, Meteora & Minutes To Midnight, helped me through the times when I thought my depression was just teenage angst and my anxiety was something that could be easily overcome. The emotion he put into his work resonated with me, and as I learned more about his past struggles the more I appreciated this.

I remember sitting in this takeaway, my mouth agog, scrolling through the internet trying to find something to say that this wasn't true. That it was some hideous rumour doing the rounds. That something had happened but he wasn't actually dead. It was only after a few hours that I began to accept it. I hadn't found it this difficult to accept the passing of other idols who had died by suicide, such as Robin Williams or Chris Cornell who had died a month or so prior to Chester. I had been saddened but I didn't go through this stage of denial. It hadn't hurt this much.

It was in the aftermath of Chester's passing that I decided to open up about my mental health. Hearing him talk about his battles and seeing how they had been a source of comfort to not just him but many others fighting those same demons, inspired me to talk about my own battles.

If you are feeling down or you are in a bad place, please talk to someone. Friends, family, a doctor, message me if you want to. If you're in the UK you can call Samaritans (116 123) or if you're in Scotland there is also Breathing Space (0800 83 85 87) if you want to talk to someone. The world can be a dark place. Your light makes it brighter for so many people.

Fuck it and fight it.

RIP Chester.

Anniversary: The First Rant

It's been a year since first opened up about my mental health publicly on Facebook.

The catalyst for this was a tweet sent by that most charming of repugnant toads that is Piers Morgan in which Mr Morgan suggested that it was "utter nonsense" that 34 million adults in the UK were suffering from mental illness and that people should "man up."

The Mighty posted a wonderful article on this idiot's bile (https://themighty.com/2017/05/piers-morgan-tweets-man-up-mental-illness/?utm_source=Facebook&utm_medium=Mighty_MH_Page&utm_campaign=FBreg-MH&tmsignup=1&T=mhpage) which inspired me to open up. Because I had been trying to "man up" for years as my world began to crumble and fall around me before seeking help.

Fuck it and fight it.
____________________________

I'm sorry but a rant is coming.

I have been battling depression for a few years now, and I put off seeking help because I was trying to convince myself I was alright because all I needed to do was "man up."

Throughout this time I felt stupidly alone and isolated despite having some of the best friends anyone could ask for. It felt like for about a year and a half everything just stopped. Nothing would get better, no matter how hard I tried to "man up" I'd still be stuck in the same rut. It was only after I opened up to my friends and family and sought some help that things improved, and the love and support they gave meant far more than I could ever repay. For the first time in a long time I wasn't alone.

I know that Mr Morgan is as compassionate a person as Katie Hopkins or Voldemort, but the amount of people who suffer in silence because they expect to encounter this sort of attitude is horrible as is the toll it takes on them. Then again, I don't suppose it's surprising that such a loathsome man has such a loathsome attitude to the well-being of others.

If you feel low, don't man up, it doesn't help. Talk to someone. Being open with folk about your mental health is one of the scariest, bravest and best things you can do.

NHS

Three times in my life I've saught help with my mental health through the NHS when I've found myself in bad places. Not just feeling sad or lethargic. Places that were so dark, bleak and scary the prospect of making it out seemed at times non-existent.

The first two times I was put on a waiting list and seen over three months after seeking help. The third I was just given contact details for private counselling (don't get me wrong, great if you can afford it) as I was apologetically informed by a GP that I essentially wasn't depressed enough to warrant treatment through the NHS according to the protocols and procedures they have in place.

I want to clarify that I am a massive supporter of the NHS - without it I almost certainly wouldn't be here today and am not sharing this story to have a go at the NHS. Rather the government and organisations that are strangling it.

Despite the amount of media attention and column inches dedicated to politicians tackling the "ticking time-bomb of mental health" as they often refer to it, the simple fact is this:

Not enough is being done. Far from it.

Someone's mental health and wellbeing should never be used as some political tool to steal votes with empty promises.  It should be treated with the same seriousness we treat physical health. But we are nowhere near that yet.

Rabbie Burns, pals & reflections

I am not a connoisseur of poetry. I don't read anywhere near as much as I should. I am not a Rabbie Burns fanatic (despite crying when I found hewas dead when I was at nursery, roughly 199 years after his passing) but one ofhis lines is one that always stays with me.

 "O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us!"

I wish I could see the side of me my friends and family see. I wish I could see the person they love, in spite of the meltdowns and the need for reassurance that at times must border on harassment. I wish I could see the person they want to hang out with, the one they want in their lives.

I know they don't see the me I see because I don't know if I'd be friends with him. They go out of their way to show me I'm loved and I'm not the person I see looking back from the mirror.  I am not my depression. I am not my anxiety. I am something so much more than that.

I am a brother, a son, a friend, a nephew, a cousin, a godfather and a warrior.

They let me see the me they love. Not the anxiety or the depression that distorts my vision. For this I am truly grateful. They show me the love they see in me and I love them for it.

Fuck it and fight it.

Conversations

People can be properly morbid can't they?

Whenever someone dies suddenly or in unexplained circumstances the first thought among everyone appears to be "how did they die? Did they do themselves in?"

Look at the reactions to the recent deaths of Dolores O'Riordan and Dale Winton. Only after they've gone do people seem to en masse give a shit about their mental health.

It's easier to discuss the mental health of someone who's no longer here than that of someone who's living because there's nothing that can be done to help them. It's easier to discuss what could have been done than what can be done because it can be a fucking uncomfortable conversation. For someone who's never visited that black place it can be extremely difficult to even get a sense of how life is for someone who lives there and try to help them out of it.

But it's surely better having one tough conversation with someone as opposed to endless sad conversations about them.

If you know someone who's in that black place please talk to them. From my experience even the daftest wee conversation can make a massive difference to that person.

Love each other.
Fuck it and fight it.

Tackling My Mental Health: Anxiety, Depression & The Best Worst Year Of My Life

I first posted this on Vocal about 2 months ago but thought I might as well repost it here. Here's the link for the original if you're looking for more articles on similar topics. https://psyche.media/tackling-my-mental-health?_ga=2.32594494.1853401801.1524217330-143671639.1518982404 

2017 was a strange year for me. It should have been the worst year of my life. At points I thought it might be my last, yet it somehow managed to turn into one of the best years of my life.

I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression in 2014 after putting off my concerns for years thanks to a toxic relationship. I started talking to my closest friends and family about it, but for the most part kept it to myself for fear of being ostracized. It was like a permanent monkey on my back that I had to hide from everyone. But knowing my enemy made it easier to fight. I got a new job and a new girlfriend, and moved to Edinburgh.

Things seemed pretty sweet.

Then in March 2017, everything started to unravel. My girlfriend, who had helped me so much in my battles & I helped in hers, essentially broke up with me in stages. We tried an open relationship—I didn't really try, probably because I could sense what was coming—before she left me. Less than a month later, she was with someone else; someone she met in the dying days of our relationship.

Naturally, I wasn't in the best of places at this stage. Whilst I did have an incredible network of friends who could help me, they were now 40 miles away. I appreciate that it's hardly comparable to someone who has moved country and they were only about an hour away, but this was my first time experiencing a low so far from them, and I was wary of opening up to my Edinburgh friends to the same extent as my closest friends. A black cloud was gathering and everything was getting darker and darker.

In May I saw on social media that an old friend had lost her boyfriend and the father of her young child. Not knowing the circumstances, I offered my condolences. Her reply sent a chill running through me.

"Thanks so much. Hope you're holding up well please reach out for help if you need it because this could have maybe been prevented x"

I had had suicidal thoughts before, but they had been fleeting. I'd never considered the ramifications of it in any great detail before this. I had also thought naïvely thought that if I could have a family of my own, I'd be alright. There'd always be something or someone to fight for. For the first time, I realised that there was no magic-wand that could solve the problems in my head.

At the end of May, I visited one of my closest friends in Malaga, then my sister in Brussels. The time away did me good, up until my last night in Belgium. I said goodbye to my sister and she headed for the metro. As soon as she had gone, I felt some inexplicable force weighing me down, sucking the light from around me like a black hole. I went back to the hotel and tried to distract myself, but to no avail. I was agitated. I was beyond reason. Bad thoughts were swirling around my head, getting louder and louder with each passing moment. Two conversations prevented me from doing anything stupid that night; one with my ex-girlfriend, the other with my grieving friend. For that I'll always be grateful to them. It was one bad night, but it was a horrendously long and dark night.

When I returned home, I began to open up about my mental health. Not because I thought it would help anyone, just as a release for how I was feeling. The fear of being ostracized still loomed, but not as much as the fear of another night like that one in Brussels. I was met with such warmth and kindness that I felt like an ignoramus for keeping it all bottled up inside for so long. I found it just as helpful as any therapy session I'd been to in the past (In no way am I trying to undermine the benefits of therapy as a treatment, I just found it worked better in my case) and I found it easier to handle the black clouds when they gathered. My friends spoke to me about their struggles with similar issues. People I hadn't spoken to in years reached out to me, thanking me for doing something I thought was nothing.

I made a point of spending as much time with my closest friends and family as I possibly could. The summer of 2017 was probably the happiest I had been since I left high school. I identified things in my life I was unhappy with and started work on changing them. I'm still working on them today. 

I started off 2017 thinking of starting a family, thinking it would help save me. I ended it with a bigger and closer family than I ever dreamed of. A family I always had and who turned the worst year of my life into one of the best. A family who helped me save myself.

My Mental Health Diary: Go Compare

From 15th April 2018.

The last wee while I've found myself guilty of comparing my life to other people's.

It's an easy place to end up in. Even from childhood when we see someone with something shiny and cool we want a shot of it for ourselves. Only difference is that instead of wanting a shot of a toy or a ball or something it's usually aspects of their life. In my case when I'm not in the best place there's a hint of childish bitterness attached to the envy.

"How come they have that and I don't?"
"How is it fair that I have to deal with (X,Y,Z) but they don't?"
"How did they get that opportunity when I was overlooked?"

I hate it when I catch myself doing this because I know it's a dick thing ro do and it's utterly pointless. We're all individuals walking our own paths and yeah some paths are rockier than others. Some start off rocky but level out whilst others start level but deteriorate as time goes.

You can't ever truly see where someone else's path has been or has taken them unless you truly know that person. You won't know what struggles they've overcome or battles they fight in secret unless they open up to you. And in that case the last thing they need is an almost stranger acting like a jealous dick.

Fuck it and fight it. 🖤

My Mental Health Diary: Slip

From 10th April.

Once again I've slipped.

I apologise for going about it but depression and anxiety really are a relentless pair of bastards. Even once you've slipped they hide and sneak up on you. Sometimes they hit you with the melancholy and irritability that people associate with these pricks.
Other times they hit you with this horrible apathy towards everything and anything and you just do nothing. It's not that what you have to do isn't important, you just can't see the point in doing it. You can't see your accomplishments as being valid because they haven't made a big difference to the world. It's an awful part of dealing with the bastard that it can pull you to this place where nothing matters.

I'm in that place just now but don't plan on staying. I've spent too long there in the past and lost so much time and so many opportunities. I'm not going to let that happen again. I may have slipped but I'm getting back up.

Fuck it and fight it 🖤

My Mental Health Diary: Anniversary

Sunday will mark a year since I moved into my flat. To say it's been an eventful year would be an understatement.

It's featured breakups, relationships, fall outs, make ups and shake ups. It's featured incredible highs and eye-watering lows. It's featured mental breakdowns, health scares and the loss of some close friends.
It's been a year of changing my life. Changing the people I hang out with so that I'm not letting toxic people pollute my life. Changing my dietary habits and being a bit more sensible (he typed whilst having a donut). Changing my routine and finding out what those weird machines at the gym do.

Whilst there have been lows I've overcome them and they've made me stronger. The highs I've treasured every minute of.

It's been a year of redesigning, rebuilding and reclaiming. I don't plan on stopping.

Fuck it and fight it.

My Mental Health Diary: Down In A Hole

From 25th March 2018.

One of my favourite bands is Alice In Chains and one of my favourite songs is Down In A Hole.

Down in a hole and I don't know if I can be saved 
See my heart I decorate it like a grave 
You don't understand who they thought 
I was supposed to be 
Look at me now a man 
Who won't let himself be

The last wee while I've been down in a hole. Not the first time and won't be the last time. I've been in a rut, frustrated at a number of things - work, life, homesickness - and with little sign of improvement on the horizon it's worn me down a bit. Down in a hole and I don't know if I can be saved.

At times like this I find it too easy to look at what those around me have and wonder "why do they have that and not me?" which is stupid because I know that first of all I'm not going to solve anything bemoaning the good fortune of others and secondly I know that doing this is losing sight of the fact that we're all individuals walking our own roads and fighting our own battles. You don't understand who they thought I was supposed to be. Look at me know, a man who won't let himself be.
I've always liked this song because I've always related to it, every time I slip onto that dark corner of my own head. It serves as a reminder that I'm not the only one feeling this. In those lonely moment's I'm not alone. But unlike the song these days I'm often more positive about my mental health. Even when I'm in that bad place and I can't see light at the end of the tunnel I know that it will appear. The physical pain that manifests itself will fade in time. One of my favourite quotes by one of my least favourite people; "When you're going through hell, keep walking." Down in a hole, but I know I can be saved.

Fuck it and fight it.