Not tang-fastic, just sour

The wobble is proving more than just a wobble. More like an unbalanced decent into free fall if this keeps on going. Yesterday I felt bad and today, well, I just gave up. Mornings are fraught with the possibilities of anxiety and me acting on those anxieties.
It doesn't help that my sleep is a bit erratic so sometimes I end up oversleeping. Mostly it's because once I stay in bed beyond 5-10 minutes of turning the alarm off I get comfy, give up and nod off and then totally give up when I see the time. I had two things to do today but by mid-day I had given them up, one of them trying to go back to my old creative ways with regards to why I wasn't going to be there today. I have yet to see the reply. It wouldn't surprise me if they told me to go away and never bother them again. Actually, it would and it would upset me but I think that that sort of response is the type I fear, the type I actually expect. Or rather that black part of me expects.
It's what I expect no matter what I do or where I go. Whether it is football, going back to fitness or military I expect them to tell me to get lost as I'm a waste of space that isn't any use or any good at whatever it is that I am trying to do with them. 'Just fuck off will you?!'
My mind is always waiting for that to be bellowed. I think this explains my reticence to do things or participate in them. My inner narrative subconsciously thinks, 
'Why put yourself through it all? You know what will happen. You will fail, make a prat of yourself and though they may not say it they will think it.'
Is this the depression still or what's left over from it? I don't know anymore. 
The only thing I do know is that it is extremely tiring and wearing.
And if all of that wasn't enough, the 26th March is fast approaching. What would have been the 5th anniversary of my first marriage is coming at me when I'm feeling low. 
Great timing as ever.