I reached breaking point last Friday after feeling unwell, arguing with my partner, and not seeing my mum on her own for weeks. 

In the evening, feeling alone and trapped, I cried my heart out in bed by myself. After a while, I went and found my partner and told him I needed help. I don't think he realised how upset I was. I tried to explain that it wasn't because of our argument, or other things like that, but something deeper that I wasn't sure about. Those other things were just the 'straw that broke the donkey's back'.

I howled and sobbed, like I was in pain. Such horrible awful pain, like everyone I knew was dead and there was nothing I could do. I wanted to scream out, but our daughter was in the next room and she was already a bit distressed to see me walk in the room with tears before my partner shovelled me into the next room.

Everyday since then, I've wanted to cry uncontrollably again, but know I can't. I can't because either my family are at home, or I'm home alone and I'm afraid of the state I will end up without someone there.

What's wrong with me? What is this? Why am I feeling this way?

The world around me feels like it is falling apart. I am searching for stable ground, some foundation that I can rest upon that feels steady and safe, but there is none.

My mum: I can no longer seek support from her.

My partner: I think he is disappearing too.

Everyone else seem like strangers. 

Who is left? Just me.

And I need to survive. 

I am afraid of dying, but know that worrying about it is pointless.

There are so many awful things in the world, where do I start in trying to help fix them? It all seems too much. Too much for me to do. I think about killing myself, but feel so much guilt for the destruction I am sure I will leave behind if I do. 

I feel trapped. Trapped and I am desperately looking for an escape. 

I'm very up and down at the moment. Or rather, I'm very 'kinda ok' and down at the moment. My mood doesn't rise very high (out of ten) and sinks pretty low, sometimes scarily low.

I am so grateful to be alive. There is so much I want to do. I want explore and learn, as well as help others and make the world a better place.

"What is wrong with me?" I find myself pleading inside my head. Why do I feel this way? Why do I have this desire to die?

Talking to other people who feel suicidal surprisingly helps. I say 'surprisingly' because you could almost imagine that suicidal people conversing about suicide would be a recipe for destruction, but it's not. At least not for me. I know two people who feel suicidal, one who I speak to once every week or so, and talking through our feelings, and our distress at feeling sucidal, helps me feel like I am not alone. It also helps relieve some of the shame I have about feeling sucidal, because being able to be so open and honest about my thoughts and fears, without someone looking away awkwardly or asking you to stop talking about it because it hurts, helps me feel understood and accepted. 

For some reason, my brain is in 'self-destruct' mode, and it hurts. It hurts me, it hurts my family, and it hurts everyone around us. 

You know what, I've made it to April 2015, and I am grateful. 

So, I've stopped seeing my counsellor, Barbara, and I'm now seeing a psychologist called Katrina. I was nervous seeing her, but it went so well and I actually really enjoyed the first session. That's right, you read that correctly, I actually really ENJOYED the first session. I felt like I was being taken serousiously and I didn't feel patronised. I felt like I was seeing a professional who understands mental health and who has trained a long time to practice in that field. I felt safe in the office she used, with comfortable chairs and in a building that felt safe. Even though there were two clocks, ticking in alternate ticks, it felt calming rather than distracting, and the view from the window felt the same.

Telling my mum, my partner, and my GP about the months of hiding my thoughts of self harm, and how my sucidial thoughts had become a daily (and more) occurrence, was very hard. I wanted to run away from the situations and I felt sick from expressing those feelings into real words. But it must be done if I want things to change. My mum looked devastated, which I understand, but I felt bad for seeing her tears nonetheless. My partner held my hand while I spoke to him (or rather spoke to the carpet, the stairs, and the fireplace, any place except his face), which felt reassuring and understanding. I'm not very good at receiving hugs, though I think I may have perfected giving hugs over time. I never know how long to hug or what is acceptable to different people, and recieving them can sometimes feel like an invasion to my body.

The powerful effect of seeing the psychologist on Wednesday was undoubtably profound. I even mediated afterwards when I home (and then I slept for a few hours!). I feel disappointed still that I would still, even now, have to wait another year and a half to see a psychologist on the NHS. I feel like one of the things I want to do, once I am feel more stable, is to campaign for the more help given to the NHS from the government for mental health, starting with my local county. What is happening now is unacceptable, and, quite frankly, putting a huge danger on people's lives, and in some cases killing people. Mental health is as important as physical health, perhaps even more important, and yet it feels like it so low on the list and not given the proper respect it deserves.

I came clean to my mum and my partner, separately, that I've been consumed by thoughts of killing myself, on a daily basis and more, for a few weeks, and if that wasn't enough on its own, I've also been thinking of harming myself for the last two months or so, but not told anyone before because I didn't want to upset them. Stupid really, that last one, because I know logically I should've told them, I guess I just felt too ashamed about it, and feeling already ashamed about the suicide thing, there's only so much shame I can handle at a time.

My mum cried. She tried to hide it, but I knew it wasn't the right thing for both of us if she did. I told her I was sorry and I didn't mean to upset her, and I asked her if I should not have told her. She said I should always tell her, and it's not me who has upset here it's the situation. My partner took it well, as far as I could tell, and he held my hand while I told him through my own tears, which was unexpected as he's not done that before. He's tried to hug me, but I find it too much, but holding my hand was both unpexcted as an act, and unexpectedly reassuring. 

I've quit my counselling, which I'd been to nine sessions in total, and I'm in the process of moving to another one. It was mums idea. She said if it wasn't working, which I told her it wasn't, then there's no point carrying on and putting off the inevitable. I've got an appointment to see the psychiatrist we saw before, which was my idea, to discuss whether my medication is still working. I will tell my GP about all of this, the suicidal thoughts and self harm, when me and mum see him on Tuesday, which was my idea. And also see if he can speed up my assessment for AS as I believe the help I could get from that portal will eventually be the help that helps me the most. That's a lot of helps in one sentence.

This morning I woke up as a three out of ten. I had terrible nightmares last night and I woke up in cold sweats, which I haven't experienced in a week or so. 

I think I'm just exhausted. I've been spending a lot of my energy on other people - which I love doing because I love helping people, but the thing is I just don't have enough left for myself right now - and I need to spend some time to myself. The longer I leave it, the harder it will be to spend time for myself because I will forget how to hell myself. Even trying to draw the other day was hard because I just couldn't bring myself to do it. 

Today my daughter is in nursery for 12pm ready for lunch, so I have all afternoon to myself. Well, kind of. The plumber is coming round at around 1pm, as our bathroom is basically broken. Hopefully while he fixes that, I can use the time to draw.

I was supposed to go round my mums tonight to help paint some more, but I think I need to call it off and offer to go round tomorrow instead if she still needs help. I need to spend this evening at home with my partner and daughter relaxing, even if it means I can't have a shower if our bathroom doesn't get fixed in time. 

I think I want to start drawing some illustrations about what my depression feels like to me. I like to use humour to deal with difficult and painful situations, so they will probably be cartoons. 

This morning started off as between a four and five out of ten, but has plummeted down to a one out of ten.

I feel numb. I want to cry, but I'm afraid I won't be able to stop. My daughter is asleep and I'm in bed ready to fall asleep myself. I'm tired. No I'm more than tired, I'm exhausted. I don't think I have much left to give.

Whilst having a cigarette before I came upstairs I thought about dying. For the first time since I was a teenager, I felt like I wanted to die. I wanted to give up. I didn't want to feel this pain anymore. I managed to shake off the thought, but it's lingering there in the background. I just feel empty, like a shell with nothing inside.

I need to hang on. I can't give up just yet. I have to hold on.

I've taken a diazepam and I'm hoping to sleep while my daughter is asleep. Sleep will help. I've eaten too. I'm trying to do the right thing, I am trying. I'm trying really hard.

Right now the thought of dying means nothing to me. I'm not scared, or upset. It's just an option. I've never had this before. This emptiness and lack of sadness about taking my own life. If sleep doesn't help, I will call my mum and call my partner. 

God, I hope that sleep helps. I don't want to feel this. 

I am tired. Both mentally and physically. On Tuesday evening I had really just had enough of everything. I saw my GP in the morning and my shaking had become almost impossible to hide. Sat in the chair talking to my GP, my whole body was vibrating and I was finding it painful to bear. My GP prescribed me some diazepam, booked me an appointment for the following Monday, told me to call him if things got any worse later in the week, and suggested it might be worth booking an appointment to see the psychiatrist again. I told him I wasn't sure whether the shaking, which I believe was anxiety, was due to a busy few weeks, constantly looking after my daughter with no restbite, or perhaps due to the increase in my antidepressant. He wasn't sure either, but he was concerned that I didn't seem to be getting much help with getting a break from my daughter. 

Walking back to the car to meet my partner and daughter from the doctors as difficult, trying to hard to hide my whole body shaking. I felt like I was walking like I was made from tin. My attempt at hiding it hadn't worked though, as when I opened the car door the first thing my partner said was that my shaking had got worse.

He dropped me off to my counselling, which went mediocre. I managed to calm myself down during the session, but my counsellor hadn't helped me. I don't understand the sessions we have. I don't believe it's helping me in the way I need, but it's better than nothing right now.

My daughter finally went down for a nap at 1pm, as did I, and I didn't wake up until 4pm. When my partner returned from work, it was a comment about him needing help from me to bathe our daughter (even though he immediately apologised for it when he saw the look on my face and said he would be fine on his own) that finally through me over the edge. I thought about swallowing the whole packet of paracetamol that I'd bought earlier in the week and just being done with it. That upset me. I felt lost and trapped.

I cried. I sobbed. Quietly as I could in the kitchen, sat in the floor, wiping my tears on a tea towel. Why me. Why this. What have I done wrong. What is the point to all of this. Why is this happening. I contacted my mum and asked her to come round. I needed a hug from my mum. I needed that unconditional love and feeling that she gives me that she won't give up on me, that I am her first concern and priority beyond anything else, and she will always be there, no matter what. 

Between me, mum, and my partner, a plan was formed. My partner called his mum and she said she would have our daughter from about midday to help me out, and my mum offered to work from home and have me over if I wanted to whilst my daughter was out, and also offered to stay with me from mid morning until my daughter went to my partners mums. 

My mum has also offered to pay for my daughter to go back to nursery for one day, or two half days, a week, for the time being, to give me some space. She believes, which I think we all do now, that me having my daughter full time is too much. I am not well, and it's too much. I am burnt out, not going backwards. 

On Wednesday, the plans were in motion. I woke up numb and confused, without a clue about what had unfolded the previous day and evening. It took me about half an hour to remember what went on and what was going to be happening that day. I didn't ask my partner, I was too embarrassed. I was relieved when I could remember, as I'd thought something really bad had happened, and that I'd had to goto hospital or something. As the morning went on, I become very productive and my mood lifted slightly. I was edgy and anxious by lunchtime, and after lunch at mums, I spent the next few hours asleep on the sofa. 

Today, I have a plan, but it doesn't involve any restbite from my daughter, but it does involve seeing my partners sister, whom I finally opened up to on the phone yesterday morning. I'm glad I did, I've wanted to for a while, but I find it so hard to feel so vulnerable with people. I need to let others help me through this blip. These people, like my partners sister and mum, they want to help so much. And they can help. 

Tomorrow is Friday, and my partners mum is having my daughter in the afternoon. I need to double check the time though, so I know what to expect. 

I feel disheartened by all of this because I think deep down inside I thought things would all be fine once I was off work and at home with my daughter. Goddamnit. 

Oh bloody bollocks. It's 5.15am as I sit here typing this post, and I am exhausted. I woke up at 1.30am, struggling to sleep, and not realising the time but knowing it was early, I was thinking about getting up and accepting defeat as the struggle for sleep as thick. Checking the time, thinking it was about 5am or 6am, I was not best pleased, to say the least, that it was only half past one in the morning. Still, I managed to get another hours sleep, and about half an hour struggling to sleep, before I checked the time and again and saw my good old friend 4am staring back at me. I wasn't going to be beaten, and it was half an hours more struggling to sleep before I accepted defeat and got up. Oh bloody bollocks.

Yesterday was a struggle again. The time has now come for me to start asking for help with my daughter once a week, and seeing if my partners mum would like to spend some time with her and give me some rest. The time has also come to look at some of the things I wanted to get done this week and reassess. My own rest is more important. The last few weeks are catching up on me and it's not looking good. 

I see my GP today for a catch up to see how things are going with me. I am so grateful he is willing to see me so regularly, even six or seven months down the road. I'm seeing him on my own this time as my partner is coming with me and he is running some errands around town whilst I'm in the doctors. I think it's a good thing I see my GP on my own, I think I am ready. I need to tell him about the shakes that I've been having over the past three or four days, and the tiredness, just in case they could be a side effect of my increase in my antidepressant.

I also have counselling this morning, which my partner is taking me too as well. I still don't know how useful the counselling is, as it just feels we have a general chit chat. She's given me some useful pointers, some of those being how to bring my daughter in my mental health life rather than shield her from it, and also some things she's said about the way the brain works. But these are very minimal things. I need more than this.

I need to weigh myself again at some point this week, if I can. I keep thinking I've put weight in, again, and I need to put my mind at rest. It's been about three weeks since I last weighed myself. 

I managed to do a few minutes of drawing yesterday, but the shakey hand just became more of a hazard than a help. 

I keep thinking about the world and all the things bad and good in it. All I want to do is good things and help people. Sometimes I am so disheartened by all the bad things that happen and wonder if there's any point. And then I wonder if this life and human existence is just pointless altogether, and maybe we are just a disease of the planet, or nothing altogether. The only thing that gets me through these thoughts is thinking of small acts of kindness and the butterfly effect, that a small act of kindness of my part could have a huge impact somewhere else down the line. And also that even if human kind is a disease, or totally pointless altogether, isn't it better to do good things anyway, there's no harm in trying.

Today started off alright. I woke up between 6.30am and 7.30am, feeling still very tired but like I'd had a good sleep. I've felt this way for the past few mornings now. I had lots more nightmares again, the feeling they leave me is quite hard to shake off.

My daughter went down for her nap an hour earlier than normal, at around 10.30am, and by that time I'd really started to had enough of the shakes I've been having. Like nightmares, the shakes have been going in for the past few days or so. They are very uncomfortable, especially in my hands. It's hard to even type this out right now.

I've retreated back to bed, after having had some beans on toast. I'm hoping that good and rest or sleep will help my shaking ease a little. I wonder if it's because I've increased my medication. I'm suspicious that it's actually anxiety. This is all very convenient.

Today was going to be a rest day for me anyway, so I'm not too fussed that so far it's been a write off.

What does suck, besides the tiredness and shaking, is this morning I thought about suicide again.  That familiar thought process of thinking about it and coming to the conclusion that it's the really the only answer. I don't want it to be the answer. I don't want to die. I want to live and help others too. I want to draw and paint and create. I want to see my daughter grow up, and I want to grow old and know what the world looks like when I am old.

I have my counselling tomorrow. I'm still not sure whether it's helping or not, but at least I feel that I am doing something to help my depression.