It’s world mental health day and I’m just going to come out and say it; I’m struggling. I’ve been struggling for a couple of months and I have been pushing these thoughts to the back of my mind. I figured they’d pass and I am sure they will. But they’ve taken a lot out of me. And circumstances have impacted that.

Yesterday I returned home after a day at work to find my housemate standing in the hallway. She had found my landlady’s dead body an hour before. And, you know, it’s hard to talk about these things because you believe you should be mourning a loss of life but I feel even more insecure in my home. The world is moving forward and I feel left behind. I believe I should be feeling a certain way, but I am not.

Today I had planned to go to a UCA open day, a poetry event where a piece I had written was shortlisted in a competition and a journal workshop. Today I had planned to work on my wellbeing because my immune system had been taking a beating this month. Today I had made an active promise to deal with things I had been putting to one side…

… But I stayed at home, coughing in bed and trying not to think about anything.

I have intermitted on my counselling course. My tutor left and the course had to be rescheduled to a day I cannot attend. I put in a request to transfer to a January/February start and I am just waiting to hear back. I miss the course; I miss feeling useful and inspired.

I’ve dealt with blows like this before. I am used to upheaval. But lately it’s chipping away at me and I don’t think there’ll be much left to bounce back.