So, here I am first night back at work, its been a mix of signed off and planned annual leave.
I’d like to say I’m coping… I’m not. I work in a dementia home, on nights. It used to be lovely. But as the poor residents decline, the job becomes harder. Not just physically but mentally! If like me you literally could overthink anything. This is not the place to be. You think about life, mortality, and I am surrounded by people whose brains have failed them. Mine is not failing on such a level, but I feel their anguish and their confusement. But then because I feel that, I get the frustration!
But I chose this job (I am leaving), but yet I just want to go home and hide in the safety of my bed. But you need to work for money, otherwise that’s just another anxiety!
This blog doesn’t really have a conclusion, more just a rambling outlet of a bipolar chick on a low, trying to live a normal life…