I made a pact with myself when I first started blogging that if the blogs became opaque and started to 'smoke screen' the reality of my life I had two choices - stop blogging (avoidance) or be honest (authenticity) even if it's hard for a fervent introvert to believe firstly anyone is interested and secondly that it isn't just self-indulgent twoddle sharing on-line.
I am still blogging - so I am claiming that in the name of authenticity I need to say it as it is - for me. The accident I had a few months back seriously dented my confidence - and I have been in such pain since that distraction seemed the best counter attack - and constantly putting energy into re-framing my experience in positive terms. It was hard work on top of all the other things going on - every day life things - but I thought I was coping - no, better than that, I thought I was doing pretty well. Then gradually I could feel some familiar symptoms from the now fairly distant past returning - the symptoms of depression. Churchill was right when he said that all depressives live with the haunting memory and fear that The Black Dog will reappear at some point. I have long been comfortable with seeing myself as a depressive - but like most reasonably capable and generally upbeat people - my bigger fear is becoming a burden to others or being seen as somehow wanting or utterly inadequate. The reality is, of course, that bog-standard, uniquely and wonderfully made, standard issue with minor modifications - human.
It's perculiar that a person who can be so affirming of others and supportive of them as they celebrate and embrace their needs and wants is often reluctant to reach out in ways that will enable her own needs to be fully met. So, as the symptoms were spotted and owned, I decided I was going to do something I have never done before and take my mental health as seriously as I always encourage everyone else to take theirs!!! I've kicked in contact with my local Community Psychiatric Nurse who is a well of useful self-care advice and utterly respectful and supportive of the personal energy it took to seek intervention early. I have started a tiny dose of medication to stabilise mood - and I have taken advice and cleared my diary of any commitments which could challenge my judgement or emotional fragility more than it needs to be just now. The reality is that I have spent a few days being gentle with myself and I have enjoyed a gorgeous day today mostly reading and having a good blether with my partner.
I feel a bit of a fraud right now because just putting the support in there seems to have lightened my mood and empowered me to take better control of my stress levels. I guess at base level I am a very independent and proud person. As a consequence owning how I really feel deep inside myself, to a soul friend or therapist is not a problem - much harder to share this information with a wider group of people. Why? What am I scared of? Maybe that some won't rate me any more; or those who don't understand depression and its many possible causes will judge me as weak and useless.
Fortunately my mood is up enough to recognise with my head and my heart that this is utter tosh. Those who know me will recognise the authenticity in what I am sharing and the necessity in doing so because it speaks to all our experiences of desolation and abandonment. It's just that mine are sometimes fairly acute 'episodes' in the sense that I can't just snap out of it. I can't always just keep going. Those who think it's another eample of Jane W-G fallibility then I probably want to agree with you - but not too hastily and only partially - it is my vulnerability which gives me a compassionate heart and my experience of disability which helps me to know the reality of the experience of the mercy of God and the loving companionship of others. I am learning that I can share the dark and the light. The sky doesn't fall in and there's even the chance others will resonate with my experience.
For now I am doing just beautifully all things considered. This level of symptom feels like a wake up call and I am waking up and smelling the roses. Realising that there are many things depression teaches me about living and enjoying life. So it's been over five years since I was in therapy - far too long - so time to get back in and do another good long stint. Five years off probably means the next ten years on! Taking relaxation seriously and time to process. These are musts not optional extras - and I know this in my bones.
And while all this is falling into place I sit here typing in a howling gale and even I can see there's a funny side - I am wearing my t-shirt with "I have issues" printed on it. Many a true word spoken in jest!
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