No sudden epiphanies, no sudden movements.

I am well aware that I am pretty much posting the same thing over and over again. But that's the nature of depression, isn't it? The type of depression that is the pits of boringness? There is no will to do anything, no inspiration, no sudden epiphanies? Blankness. Have I been doing the washing up for two minutes or ten hours? It would feel the same either way. I woke up at 2am thinking that I'd made it through the night. No, there was more to do and oddly I was wearing clothes that I wasn't wearing when I went to bed. No explanation for that apart from being cold and sleep-dressing. Strange that they were The Boyfriend's clothes though. Anyway, back to sleep and a dream where I was stabbed in the stomach. There were crowds of people and no one noticed or no one cared and really it doesn't take Freud or even a dream dictionary to decipher the meaning of that one.

I spent most of yesterday crying. Proper disgusting crying with snots and coughing fits and almost being sick. I could probably win an award for Least Sexiest Girlfriend at the moment, what with my extreme boringness, the amount of weight I've put on and all the crying. But hey, my interest in sex is minimal these days. Fail fail fail. The Boyfriend made me tea and issued hugs and helped me to go to Sainsburys for the token amount of fresh air. He had to go back Up North last night, and I know he's worried. But I have run out of capacity to pretend. I realised today that he seems to have given up suggesting seeking medical attention. I know he's pretty disgusted by the CMHT. I'm supposed to have an appointment there in January but nothing's been sent through yet. I'm scared that if I am truly honest, I risk being admitted again and I don't want that. If I am alive, I need to be functioning and going to work otherwise the rent and bills won't get paid.

I hate saying that I don't want to be alive. Christmas has made me think a lot about myself as a child and I feel so apologetic to that little girl. I am sorry I messed up, that I haven't achieved the things I intended to. That I am not capable of enjoying life. My head is very full of memories at the moment.

I feel heartbroken. I'm huddled under a blanket with the curtains closed and the fairy lights on. Soon they will go. When I take the decorations down it means that Christmas is over and I failed to enjoy it. I want to give up. Or I want someone to march in and take charge, to tell me what to do. All my coping methods have failed. I'm not even interested in self harming because I know it won't help and then I'll just have to clean up the mess.

I'm spending New Year's Eve alone. I'm acting like this is a choice. I have been thinking about how many people who started blogging around the same time as me are not doing so anymore. Why can't I move on?

I am sorry that this is another post of the same questions, the same hopelessness. Believe me, I am more bored of this than you could imagine.

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