It’s Time To Vote

This is a blog about depression. If you are easily offended or take offence to my very sarcastic humour, please do not read any further. Mental illness is not a joke; it is not something to point fun at and I fully understand that. BUT…when the going gets tough, sarcasm and humour is my defence and so I will be parading it around all over this blog.


If you need help, please get it. Whilst I hope this has a happy ending, I don’t know yet and given I’ve not been able to fix myself, I really don’t want others using this as a ‘How To Be Happy for Beginners v2.0’



The day of the General Election has arrived. I am somewhat stupefied at the current state of global politics. It feels like 2016 and 2017 should just be banished to a forgotten time in history that we should never speak of again. I am registered to vote by post. Have I though? No. In fact, the postal vote forms are sat on my study desk right now. More on that later though!


I wake up late and I don’t think today is going to be a good day, that’s before the General Election results start coming in too. In fact, today goes from ‘meh’ to bad and then to worse. I spend most of the day, on the sofa eating biscuits. It’s a very bad idea I know but I don’t have any momentum in me. I am also considering not sorting out my vote. Although it’s a postal vote, I can drop it at any polling station if it hasn’t been posted in time (like my forms on my study desk). As I watch the news coverage in the lead up to the polls closing, my mood unsurprisingly doesn’t improve. To avoid the world, I go back to bed to hide under the duvet. I thought duvet days were a thing of the past however, like many things in my life, I was wrong.


When I re-emerge from the land of duvets, I give myself a stern talking too. The suffragettes fought for my right to vote and today even coincides with Emily Davison’s death. Come on Person C, time to put on your big girl pants and face leaving the flat. It’s a vote, no one will care about your greasy hair, your dubious tracksuit bottoms and a rain coat. What’s more shocking, the polling station is on my road, I need only be outside in the big wide world for about 8 minutes.


As I walk back, I see a neighbour coming my way. No, oh please no. Is it too late to cross the road? Would that be too obvious? She lives in the same building as me and is one of the other freeholders. I can’t face talking to her. It’s nothing to do with her, I just don’t want to be seen looking like the tramp I currently am. She doesn’t recognise me at first. I am not sure whether to be happy about this or offended that I look that bad, I’m unrecognisable. Then, I see it. The moment the lightbulb goes off in her head and she is staring at me. She does know this bedraggled woman walking down the road. She stops and says hi. I don’t know what to say back. I mean, obviously, I say hi but what else? The election, yes, good one Person C, get into a political discussion with someone, that’s going to make things go well. She knows I’ve not been well and that it included being in hospital but what she doesn’t know are any of the details or the minor point that the hospital was in fact a psychiatric hospital. I haven’t figured out a cover story and I am unable to think on my feet so I somewhat awkwardly word vomit out where I have been. Come to think of it, I am not entirely sure she even asked, I think I started to panic so much it just came out. I get the sympathy look. Damn you, sympathy look. You are so patronising. I don’t need your slight head tilt and sad eyes, I need a new brain. The awkwardness lasts a few more minutes but feel like hours. We finally say bye and I jog the rest of the way so as not to risk another awkward encounter.


Once safely double locked back inside the flat, I let out a sign of relief. Well, that could have gone better hey!


I spend the rest of the evening doing some blog write ups. I’ve not been in a good pattern of doing them recently and on days I am struggling, I really miss them. I need to make this a bit more of a routine. Also, I’ve started to take the blog stats personally. Each day I can see how many visitors, from which country etc etc. As a people pleaser, a recent dip in ‘likes’ has worried me. I’ve always said this blog is for me first and foremost but I’ve lost that meaning over the last week or so. I’m going to go back (or at least try) to ignorant bliss about the stats, likes and views of the blog.


To end the evening, I have a quick bath. This is how I know I am moving forward. I am letting myself have a bath. I’ve not ‘earned’ it, I want it so I can have it. This is a step in the right direction, let’s just hope the General Election results follow in its footsteps.




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