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THIS IS NOT THE LIFE| JOURNAL

Saturday morning and I’m sat up in bed with a very strong coffee, having woken up from a horrific dream.

They say dreams represent your current state of mind, and if cars crashing violently in Waitrose car park, while helpless people scream pained and trapped doesn’t metaphorically depict the situation in which I find myself, I do not know what will.

Yesterday, I arranged with my boss that I would be signed off sick by the doctor next week starting Monday.

And it’s such a relief to know I won’t be walking in to the place that’s causing me so much unhappiness at the moment.

I won’t be going into specifics of my job or the reasons I’m so unhappy, just in case this little corner of the web is infiltrated by someone I know, but I can’t stress enough how much torment and psychological distress working there is causing me.

And has done for years.

I admitted to my thankfully understanding manager that I have reached the point at work where I have taken as much as I can take there and something has to give. I was open and honest and I may have said ‘crap’ and ‘shit’ a few times too many.

I’m desperate to leave.

For good.

And stop finding silly excuses to stay. I can find another job and get a car and maybe have a shred of a chance at being happy.

Anyway, I have a week (possibly two) to figure out and action my next move in this torrent of hell.

But as unsure and confused as my life currently seems, the one thing I am sure about is that things need to change because I’m damned if I’m spending the rest of my life this unhappy. This miserable.

For the next week I’ll be working out my options, hopefully buying a car and doing things I enjoy.

And to start with rearraing my horrible room and making it a space I can heal and plan in.

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