My depression at the moment feels as agonising as pulling teeth. Very different from my last bout six years ago which I still have little memory of. A lot of the time when I was severely depressed I blanked - a part from the fact that I used to get very agitated if anyone interupted me during the afternoon showing of Diagnosis Murder on BBC 1! What makes it more excruciating this time is that I am much more aware - and so I can't switch my head off and just 'blank'. Sleep is the only relief and I try and sleep as much as I can - not always easy though with the bangs and crashes of my particular slice of reality!
I continue to wear my blue and white nordic woollen hat with ear flaps. My family are being brilliant and know that I cannot speak out loud much just now - an occasional whisper - or a short chat - and then I feel as though I have used up all the available emotional energy in the 'heart battery' and don't feel up to talking any more. My woolly hat has become a visual signal that I am struggling a bit and I am able to pull the front and ear flaps down in such a way that I can block out all visual stimulus and limit my hearing. When I do this I seem to be able to still my body and stop the physical symptoms of foot and hand tapping - severe anxiety. I must look like a morbidly obese garden gnome - but it works. A sort of waking sleep.
My family are great at understanding my silence and the use of the hat. My partner has a matching one and often slips it on as he enters our bedroom and sees mine in place. I love this symbol of solidarity. My son has an equally fetching number in burgundy - so sometimes we all sit together in a line on the bed with our hats on and ear flaps down. That feels so affirming and accepting of my current reality - and mine of theirs. It is difficult for us all.
I've had a couple of days where I haven't been able to speak about anything other than thank yous and about dogs. My current equivalent of Diagnosis Murder is The Dog Whisperer. I am so trying to come to terms with my Newfie's death - and learn.
At the moment I am too anxious to go anywhere outside our bedroom and my study. Today is a good day as I have made it into the study. Most of the time I sit or lie on our bed with the TV on or I sit on the decking outside my bedroom door and stare at the sea. I love the sea.
I am finding that grooming the dogs often lifts my mood temporarily and means I can communitcate for a short time after I have completed the task. The dogs love this too as they get oodles of attention and it helps us bond in a slightly different dynamic now that Jess has died.
I am missing the different nuances and voices that usually tossle, flounce and inform my inner reality. I feel two-dimensional just now. A cardboard cut out of my former self who is uncomfortable being propped up anywhere other than in the most womb-like of environments. I can't read anything much now and even writing this blog will probably mean I go back to bed and sleep for a couple of hours when I've finished. I don't have a comment on this. It's just how it is and I am at a point where I can't accept quite that this is how it has to be in all its humuiliating and soul-diminishing glory but I haven't the energy emotionally to do anything about it.
I am having very lucid dreams and often wake myself up with a start and in a panic. I seem to have lost my sense of smell a bit too - something I use a lot as a visually-impaired person - except waking from dreams - when I am convinced there is a fire or a person attacking or some horrible thing about to happen. The nights are long. I am taking no exercise and lounging about all day - so I guess it's no surprise that my sleep patterns are all over the place. Again I have no sense of wanting or being able to heave myself out of my current stupor and do something about this. Having a shower is a momentous undertaking and takes half a morning to work up to - if at all.
I have coped pretty poorly with the night anxiety and find after a day with the TV in the background - it doesn't work at night. Neither does music or the radio. Relaxation tapes wash over at the moment. I tend to breath and pray.
I often feel trapped at night but also too scared to do anything about it. Weird and disconcerting for someone who is usually proactive and capable of re-framing into the positive. I am learning patience by default. In depression all I have is the moment and I am able in this episode to live it and to some extent, I am sure, even remember it. This is a gift and a curse. It may help me in time to befriend the feelings and parts of me my depression taps into. It may not. For now I have the moment - and for once I can't escape into a project - or distract myself with hard work - or offer myself to others as a resource. For now I must be with my own inner stranger. Sometimes she is a painful, demanding companion. Often she is silent. Whichever she is for now ever-present and I have not dis-owned her, blanked her - or pushed her away. She is as important a part of me as my creative, engaged, life-loving self. She is a part of that too.
Voice in the Night
Come unto me for your burden is heavy.
Don't look at me like that - with disbelief in your eyes.
Come unto me:
Your burden is heavy.
My love is here.
Look inside
Into your fear
Offer a little reassurance.
Come on you can do it.
Not enough to overwhelm
but just enough to admit
how intolerable it feels sometimes to be you
and how unfair it is
that I offer insightful answers
which you sometimes choose not to hear.
Deep breaths.
Aim to get back to the same.
The same is better than worse.
Come unto me.
No, I will not carry the weight,
It is yours
You can balance it well enough.
I will offer you reassurance.
Stay
with the now.
The burden is not the future or the past.
The burden is the untameable present,
the inescapable reality that you are what you are most fully in this precious moment.
Don't still when you cannot, use the anxiety:
Make it your protection.
Go darker when you are blinded by the light - and make the darkness your most reassuring companion.
Go inwards when the outside is fearful - and befriend.
You and I can sit, lie and tap out the reassurance you need until you start to feel it as real.
But can we watch a little less day time TV?
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