The ones that hit you by surprise are the worst.

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I was hit by a wave of depression today that took me by surprise. Just got in from a nice lunch break spent with colleagues when suddenly there it was.

If I’m honest I had been expecting it since Saturday. I went to see a show in London, one of my favourite pastimes, but also one of my biggest depression triggers. I would love more than anything to be a theatre actress but unfortunately I just don’t have the talent, and seeing shows always reminds me that I’m not doing the thing that I love and never will be.

For some reason the depression episode was delayed and hit me just now. The horrible self loathing thoughts came back and I’m just sat at my desk not knowing what to do or how to focus.

There isn’t much of a point to this post and the self-pity. I’m just at a loss and need to tell someone but don’t have anyone here to tell. So I’m telling the universe.

Getting by with a little help from no friends

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I have always struggled to make friends. I have no confidence or self esteem, and a horrible bout of bullying through secondary school made things even worse.

The various health things I have going on add to this. When I met my partner, I had two friends, one of which lived 3 1/2 hours away by car. Through my boyfriend however I started to meet people. I started to get invited to things. I still struggled to socialise because I found it hard to understand why people would want to talk to me, but it was a start.

Then the physical health problems started. I had to keep turning down invitations, either because my stomach was playing up or previous occurrences of having to speed to the bathroom had left me terrified. Then because I kept saying no, naturally the invites became less and less. One of the girls who I was becoming friends with is getting married soon. I haven’t been invited to the wedding. Pictures of her hen party on Facebook made me want to cry because I want to be part of a group of friends. I of course don’t blame her, and didn’t expect an invite, but it still hurts. I was too embarrassed to explain why I couldn’t come to things so they must just see me unsociable and miserable. Which to be honest at the moment I am.

I still have the two friends. The girl who lives far away has been my friend for a long time, but distance and her having two children mean it’s hard for us to see each other. The second friend has been in my life for about 9 years. He’s been a great friend through many things, but I even feel like he’s slipping away sometimes. He does know about my health problems and is very understanding, but when you keep cancelling on someone because you’re afraid you’ll be unwell, it’s bound to have an impact. There are two girls at work that I think (hope) consider me friends, but I recently found out they’ve been organising trips and things without me. I don’t blame them.

The hen party pictures were doubly upsetting because they made me think of my own wedding. I won’t have a hen party because I have no one to invite. I might have one bridesmaid if my faraway friend can make it. These feel like big things to miss out on.

I know this sounds like a pity-party, but I wish so much that I had friends. I’m so lonely.

Incidentally, I write this from a GP waiting room while I wait for what I think may be a course of antibiotics. I’ve been trying to resist taking them but they have tried everything else and I think today I have to accept the inevitable. I’m afraid they’re going to make my stomach bad again like before, and make things worse when the fodmap diet was at least starting to help. Wish me luck.

We’re all (hopefully) going on a summer holiday…

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The sun is out and it’s glorious. Unfortunately my stomach is a little off so my plan to sit in the park didn’t quite plan out.

The sun is making me long for a holiday. I haven’t been abroad in a fair while because of my health problems: IBS means I’m afraid of my stomach playing up in a place I’m unfamiliar with; endometriosis means awful cramps, headaches and stomach on top of the IBS; and anxiety means a terrible fear of flying. That’s just the short synopsis.

I know this sounds minor to a lot of people, and I’m lucky to have ever been able to go on holiday before. It’s just unfortunately one small part of a massive horrible change in lifestyle due to these health problems.

I also feel so guilty for stopping my fiance from going away. We used to travel a lot and had so many plans but it feels like most won’t happen now. Even travelling at home is difficult.

I hate having to listen to the people around me talking about amazing holidays they’ve been on or are going on. Last year my boss laughed when I told him about my plans to go on holiday just an hour from where we live. There was no malice meant, but it sucked.

All of this has made me determined to go away this year. I am trying to get over my fears and find coping methods for the rest, and break down at least one wall of what feels like a prison. I can’t book anything yet because endometriosis affects my cycle and I don’t want to be stuck on holiday during my monthly week of crap, but as soon as I have an idea of a good time I’m going to try to push myself to book.

Any tips anyone has would be much appreciated. It’s going to be hard but I have to do it.

Wish me luck and watch this space! (Or my Twitter: @myfrownface).

No use crying over chocolate cake

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The last straw, or rather the one that made me decide to share my turbulent mental (and sometimes physical) health journey, was finding myself on the verge of tears at work because I couldn’t eat a slice of cake.

Said cake was a delicious looking chocolate variety and had been brought in by a colleague for their birthday. Everyone eagerly helped themselves. Except me.

I am cursed with IBS. Let’s get all the silliness out of the way now. That does mean all the different kinds of embarrassing stomach problems you probably imagine when you hear the term. To attempt to counter this, I follow the strict low-fodmap diet. If you aren’t familiar with the diet, I’m pleased for you! It involves not eating, or limiting, many food types including gluten, lactose, garlic, onions, beans, caffeine, fructose etc etc etc.

This of course means the cake was very much off the menu. And I nearly cried about it. Not about this one piece of cake, but about what it represents.

I have had over a year on this diet. It means I can’t eat out at restaurants, stay in hotels without a kitchen, or even just eat what I want when I want it. I know that sounds like no big deal compared to what others are coping with, but it has been tough.

I also suffer from anxiety, depression and endometriosis. A fun combination! The IBS adds to my mental health problems because sometimes I am literally afraid to leave the house in case my stomach plays up. I have lost friends, and my work and relationship have suffered. I can’t even eat a piece of cake for comfort. I also can’t have that bar of chocolate when my endo cramps make me feel like doubling over.

I of course don’t expect people to not eat around me. But every now and then when I’m feeling down and just want to eat that piece of cake/ slice of pizza/ cheese toastie / apple pie, it does get harder to not be upset.

I highly doubt that anyone will read my blog, but it’s helpful for me to write this down somewhere. Especially considering I have been told the waiting list for help with my mental health problems is 1 year at least. If you do happen to read though, feel free to say hi! I also have a Twitter account (@TheMeSpace1)