The only problem was, I had to leave.
My contract finished and there were no opportunities to continue (which I knew from the outset so it wasn't a big deal). I was gutted though. As I said before, I loved the people I worked with and I enjoyed the work.
It wasn't long before I felt the darkness growing.
I hid away. I felt like crap and as I didn't have anything to get up for I simply stopped trying. But something kept attracting my attention.
The post card.
Soon enough I began to help myself. I attended my local Mind and began going weekly. I also started volunteering with a Dementia Charity (how I got into this is another story; I will write this down another day). I sought advice about applying for jobs and I continued to see a counsellor.
The post card resonated with me.
From the moment I left my Christmas job I was applying for something new. I literally applied for anything. Litter picking. Post delivery. Shop work. Anything. I grew more and more frustrated and upset as I was rejected from jobs I knew I could do in my sleep.
I kept thinking about the postcard.
On a whim one day, I applied for a job that sounded like something I would enjoy. It related to my degree and it had been a dream for a while. I did't have the experience but I knew I had the drive.
Amazingly I got a telephone interview.
As I waited to hear back from that job I continued to be rejected from things I knew I could do. I cried a lot. One of the most difficult things about having depression is feeling like you are not liked or needed. The constant rejections fuelled this feeling and I found myself incredibly low once again. Lower than I had been before Christmas. Actually, the lowest I can remember being for a while.
Things looked up as I was requested to go to a face to face interview for my "dream job". I shoved my inner demons deep down so I could try and focus on the task at hand. The night before the interview I remember sobbing and asking Charlotte "What is the point? I don't have the experience. They will laugh at me".
When I got up in the morning the first thing I read was the post card:
Dream it. Believe it. Achieve it.
There have been so many tears. Anxious nights praying for sleep. Long, dark days praying for some sort of release. Something. Anything. Please.
Well I can tell you that, finally, my hopes and dreams were answered.
I write this after completing my first full week in my shiny new 9-5 job.
I write this not as Rebecca Warrior, sufferer of depression and anxiety. I write this as...
Rebecca Warrior
Publishing Associate
Editing
It's early days yet and I am still trying to deal with a full time role, disturbed sleep and inner demons. I cry a lot and worry constantly. But something is happening. Something good.
I know this isn't the end of all my suffering. I know that this doesn't cure anything. But it is a start. It's a step in the right direction. It's FULL TIME WORK and I couldn't be happier about it. I shall try and continue with this positivity and will count my blessings every day, as I have been doing for the past month. I've been waiting to tell people about this because I've been waiting for someone to tell me this is all a massive joke. I'm slowly starting to realise it isn't and I'm chuffed.
I still have sadness. I still have tears. But I have a reason to get up in the morning and that is HUGE.
I must take this opportunity to thank my Mum and Charlotte. You have put up with so much from me and the fact you continue to do so staggers me. I love you so very much and I know I couldn't do this without you. So thank you for your continued love and support.
I also want to thank Hilary for the postcard. It is something I will be keeping for a hell of a long time, along with the friendship of you and the rest of the lovely ladies I worked with at Christmas.
So here it is folks:
I dreamt it. I believed it. And finally, I have achieved it.
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