April the 4th was the last time I had anything to do with the allotment. I haven't even been in the vicinity of the place and I didn't plant one single seed this year, not one. I barely even think about the plots and don't feel guilty about it either.
I was given a new extra medication to try in March of this year and by the middle of April I was ready for the hills; it simply didn't agree with me and conversely, all that it was meant to help with, it made a lot worse.
Self harm has become a 'normal' everyday desire and suicide often seems the logical solution to my pain. In short, times have been epically bad, we're talking on a biblical scale and Andrew and I have just barely pulled through.
Now there's a little green light at the end of that monstrously long tunnel of despair. I'm starting to catch glimpses of it, at long last, though they are few and far between.
The last couple of days here in glorious Carrickfergus have been sunshine-y and though it doesn't fill me with glee I am pleased to see the healthy plants in the garden (bar the absolutely dead Acer) and interested in the first wisteria buds on the vine.
I know Andrew will get my bum to that allotment soon and with hope I will be able to return to blogging and connecting with you, my gardening friends.
Wishing you all the very best