This time last year I was with 8 of my best girlies enjoying my hen weekend. I can't say I was overly impressed me in this:
and made me walk around Oxford city centre, though...
We did have an amazing weekend. Fancy dress, shopping, and learning the best dance EVER for my wedding reception.
But, it was also the weekend that I admitted to my mum, my cousin, Mr B and more importantly myself that I was suffering with depression again.
I was unhappy at work. I was stressed with the wedding prep (in fact, that's a lie. I was stressed because I didn't think I was stressed enough how absolutely ridiculous is that?!). But mostly, I was stressing that once we got married, people would expect us to get pregnant. Would ask us when they would come.
And I wouldn't be able to cope with it.
In fact, that hasn't happened. I don't think we've been asked by anyone, actually. The people that matter know our situation, and know we'd tell them if there was anything to tell. If anyone does think that it is their business to ask, I tell them (with a smile) that it's got nothing to do with them!
Anyway, I got back. I went to the doctors. I got myself a some help, and set about making myself better.
I spoke to my boss. I told him my situation. I explained I was unhappy with work. I explained that I didn't feel like I was going anywhere and wanted to make some changes with what I was doing. He promised that we'd make some big changes. That when I came back to work as Mrs B it would be a brand new start for me.
And changed it has. For the worst. I haven't progressed any further at all. In fact, I've taken a massive step back, which is one of the main reasons for my leaving at the end of this year.
But, on the whole, the past 12 months has been awesome. We've been married for almost a year. We've had two amazing holidays. We've started our TTC journey. I stopped the anti depressants. I am much happier now than I was this time last year.
Despite the dance lesson...