In April 2017, my partner and I made a decision to give everything we've got to digging ourselves out of the hole we were in—not enough money coming in, borrowing from the rent and scraping it back during the month to pay on time, relying on credit for essential purchases when nothing would stretch any further. We were up to date on all our bills; that was in our favour, at least, but there was no forward motion, no end goal, no way out of the cycle. Or so we thought.
In April 2017, we decided to do something about our rather sad looking financial situation, and our even sadder looking financial future. Being a low-income household, we had to start small. This is where we began...
The GP greeted me with an understated smile, and the usual question, "What can I do for you," which initially I answered with a long pause. I'm nearly 37 years old, and I have had depression for as long as I can remember. This is the first time I have sought help in many years. It was always dismissed as "teenage angst" before, and so I stopped looking for support. I've been going it alone, with only my long suffering partner and a few trusted friends to lean on for so long, and it has gotten so tiring.
In 2014, following the untimely deaths of Rik Mayall and Robin Williams, we were subjected to some very mixed (and some very unusual) reactions thanks to various social media platforms. One that kept coming around was this little gem:
Yes way, actually. We'll just take it as read that casting snap judgements on people's parenting is pretty poor form, and get right to the heart of the matter.
The sun rises bright and cheerful at the start of a normal day. Nothing unusual about yesterday. Nothing bad happening tomorrow. Nothing to be nervous of today. Why, then, is this stupid head of mine so heavy? I have been woken by my four year old's chirpy morning optimism, and it's like knives to the brain. "Shut up! Your voice is searing through my head!"