I went out for a walk with pup this morning. There aren’t enough words to describe how hard it was for me to leave the house today. Eventually, after taking my anxiety medication and lots of indecision, I did make it out. This was mainly because pupper was driving me spare, jumping up every time I made the slightest movement, desperate for his walk and I couldn’t stand it any longer.
You could count this as a positive thing I suppose, that I actually made it out into the fresh air for a while but while walking I began thinking about how many things I’ve failed at in my life. Hint, it’s a lot. It’s almost everything I’ve ever done. And I don’t know how it’s taken me so long to actually realise this. Obviously I knew about certain things I’ve messed up, they are always at the forefront of my memories but it’s clear to me now that this runs much deeper. From childhood everything has gone wrong, maybe sometimes this wasn’t all my fault, sometimes it partly was and other times it was definitely all me.
From when I managed to get kicked in the head by a horse when I was nine years old (should have had enough common sense to know not to approach a mare and foal I didn’t know) everything turned to shit. The amount of things I’ve quit is ridiculous. One of the main ones that I think about often is dropping out of uni because my mental health collapsed. I was studying at Dental School when my (at-the-time-undiagnosed) Bipolar Disorder struck and led me along a self-destructive path of manic behaviour which has permanently scarred me. Since then I’ve been divorced twice, lost two houses and haven’t been able to hold down a job for more than about two years maximum. This includes long periods at a time when I was off sick. Every time I feel competent at something and think I’ve got it nailed depression creeps up and basically sends me back to square one. After my massive breakdown in 2014 I’ve been unable to work, relying on my husband and the limited state benefits that I’m entitled to.
The only thing that has worked out in my entire life is getting together with my husband. He truly is my soulmate and I would be completely lost without him. Although having him by my side is the best thing that ever happened to me it came at a cost. A huge cost, financially, emotionally and mentally. And at a massive cost to my conscience. I’m only just coming to terms with this after six years and it’s been a hard, hard journey.
So there we are. I have one success in my whole life. Everything else is a complete fuck up. I have no career, no money, no hobbies, nothing that I’m good at long term despite being able to turn my hand to most things. I am a quitter. A loser. A 37 year old woman with absolutely nothing to show for her life except a list of failed marriages, hospital admissions and prescription slips. When I leave this earth nothing will be better for the fact that I have been here. And that makes me really sad.
Brain Wanderings 
I reblogged your post. I do hope that’s ok! T
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