Woohoo. After seventeen hours of tidying and cleaning my flat finally looks like a place that’s occupied by a grown woman again. For the last year it’s resembled the scene of a burglary. One that was abandoned because the home owner felt so violated they just couldn’t bear to go back and live there anymore.
I feel saner already. I hadn’t realised just how crazy the clutter was making me.
Make-Up & Mirtazapine 
I think I know the feeling. There was a time when I couldn’t wash the dishes for weeks. Or anything else that involved getting out of bed.
(I can relate to just about everything you write. I was an anorexic / bulimic / depressive mess for years. I’m over the eating disorders, I hope, but I don’t know if I would still consider myself as having depression or not. I’ve been on meds for 5 years now, so I don’t really know. Wow, that’s a long time.)
Same goes for your blog post ‘Stories’. I could have written that myself.
Thinking about it, there are stories I haven’t told anyone ever, because they sound just so made up. How can all this shit have happened to one person?
x
Sabrina
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Thank you for reading. And for commenting. It’s good to hear that you’ve recovered.
I’ve thought I was cured of depression before and I was wrong. I’m beginning to worry whether it works the same way as an addiction, you always have it so you’ll always have to keep and eye on it?
Sarah x
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