Tag Archives: depression

It’s All Downhill From Here

Summer Solstice.

The longest day of the year.

The end of next week marks the halfway point of the year.

It’s all downhill from here.

BUT, the phrase has two meanings. And they contradict each other.

In one way you can say that it means things are going to get worse.

On the other hand it could mean the hard part is over and things are going to get easier.

So my summer of discontent, my anxiety, my debt, my employment prospects…they could go either way.

Yes, I know that every situation in the history of the world will go one way or the other as that is the way the world works, but I’m musing here, leave me be.

Either this is the rough leading to the good, and I will finally get the help I need, I will finally get answers, and I will find employment that doesn’t make me break out in metaphorical hives.

Or, this is the end of good times. Harsh times are ahead.

I guess a lot of it will depend on what I do next, and how I approach things.

For a long while I have been thinking so fondly of the upcoming autumn that I have confused myself and I think it is September.

At first I thought it was a longing to get a bit more hygge, or just to get out of the heat, but maybe, subconsciously, I am looking for this year to be over. To begin again.

What difference does one day make? Why is it we all feel the psychological boost from the calendar switching from December 31st to January 1st? The belief that we can finally fulfil our potential?

I don’t know, but why wait till then? Why wait another 6+ months to feel that I can begin again?

The future is now.

 

 

Am I Allowed To Be Ok?

I have moments where I forget the horrors of Wednesday (and I don’t just mean in regards to my own personal situation, but also about the victims of the Grenfell Tower tragedy).

When those moments are happening I feel, dare I say it, normal?

Which, once I’ve acknowledged that I feel ok, is usually enough to bring on the panic and paranoia.

Because if I have moments where I feel ok, then am I well? Did I imagine all the years of anxiety, depression and stress?

Which then leads me to worry, which makes me ill, which makes the problem worse.

The Doctor has told me to go out, see friends, have and savour a coffee, get regular exercise, feel the sunshine on my skin.

Mental Health is not like another illness. It often has no obvious sign, not in the way a broken leg does at least.

The things that help make mental health better are not usually the things you would tell a sick person to do, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t as essential medicine as a pill or a syrup would be.

I need to give myself permission to be happy, to get better, to not suffer.

Run Towards

My natural instinct is to run away from my problems, to the extent that often in times of crisis I can actually be heard to say ‘I’m going to run away’.

It’s like a catchphrase.

This means the boy now ‘fines’ me if I say it.

Now I don’t need to tell you that if you run away from your problems you only take them with you, but clearly I haven’t been telling myself that.

If I run away from my problems they will always be there.

If I run towards them I stand a better chance of doing a finishing move on them and watching them tap out*

 

 

*Wrestling analogy

Worse than Nowhere

I finally had a good nights sleep.

I slept in late, but I don’t want to make a habit of it. Routine is important to those with mental health and their recovery.

Today is an achievement as so far I haven’t cried yet.

I have made some terrible mistakes, I have made some terrible errors and I have had bad judgement.

I have made decisions that have ended up with me worse than nowhere, I am backwards.

I have to let some good come from this. I have to work towards a new dawn. I can either choose to make the same mistakes over and over again or I can make sure it never happens again.

The Morning After The Night Before

The alarm said 4:30am.

There is a great play by Sarah Kane called 4.48 Pychosis, which is about how her only moments of clarity in a 24 hour onslaught of poor mental health would come at 4.48 in the morning.

I am a deep sleeper, but 4.30 am has become my new waking up time over the last few days.

I drifted in and out and got out of bed at 7am. I came downstairs and put on the news to discover another tragedy had befallen London, this time a massive blaze through a 20+ storey tower block. Even though this tower block was in West London, and my brother lives in East London, and he is always quick to point out it is ‘real’ East London, not what is referred to as East London, I still had to send him a text to make sure he was alright.

I went up to the boy at close to 8, he came down not long after. His dad had already phoned him.

It was then we made the phone call to my line manager and I had to tell her that yesterday my Doctor has signed me off work for 4 weeks because I am suffering from Stress, Anxiety and Depression.

A job I started less than 2 months ago.

The phone call could have been far worse.

I have texted, messaged and called more friends in the last 24 hours then I probably have in the last year. Indeed one friend I messaged on FaceBook showed my last contact with him had been in 2016.

I have realised far too late that hiding my problems, not telling them to anyone, pretending everything is alright has gotten me worse than nowhere, it has made me backtrack to a terrible, terrible point.

I feel that I have ruined everything. I feel embarrassed beyond all comprehension. I can’t bear to think of what certain people may think of me.

I would obviously never be this harsh to anyone else. If someone is sick is doesn’t matter if it is a broken leg or a broken mind. Sickness is sickness.

I had a good chat to my brother after he woke up and confirmed he was in East London and far away from West London. He spoke about his problems navigating social situations and kept saying ‘Not that it’s a competition’. We then moved on to safer topics like running and he asked me about my running ambitions and then kindly and delicately told me I should concentrate on losing weight first before I go back to running.

My other brother’s main concern regarding my mental health is to make sure I don’t miss out on season 3 of Twin Peaks.

I started re-reading ‘Grace Under Pressure’¬†by Sophie Walker, a running memoir, about a mum struggling to help her daughter who has Asperger’s Syndrome. I have put on the film Wild¬†on Netflix, about a woman hiking the Pacific Crest Trail.

I guess I am focusing on what my body has the potential to do when what my mind can do is up for debate.

I have been to the Doctor to ask if my referral for assessment can somehow be escalated.

I have been to the local Mind centre to arrange an initial consultation. I was asked about what medication I am on, lots of people have been asking me that lately. As I listed the anti depressants, the anti psychotics, the anti anxiety pills and the three separate meds I take to manage my stress induced IBS I could see the person I was talking to look shocked.

The boy came home for lunch and asked how I was:

‘I’m not ok, but I’m ok’ I said

I have suddenly become consumed by anxiety, over what people will think of me, over how little I have been coping, over how ill I am.

Nearly 8 weeks ago the boy and I made a deal that if I could lose 10 pounds in 8 weeks he would get me a special prize. I would get another prize if I exceeded that.

I am currently on 12 pounds lost and the official deadline is this Saturday, the bulk of that was in the last two weeks, normally I would have been ecstatic. But I think it is a sign of deep emotional trauma if my usual comfort eating has fallen by the wayside and I have replaced it with drinking coffee and eating only bananas because anything else is too challenging.

I’m not ok, but I’m ok’. Please forgive me.

Let’s Celebrate

After yesterday’s post on here I received a notification from WordPress which informed me that I had just made my 200th post.

That means I have averaged over 1 post a day, which is great as I know there are around 5-10 days when I didn’t post this year.

I started this blog years ago. I posted sporadically at best during those years. I didn’t have dedication or discipline to post everyday.

I decided to use this blog space (I was still paying for the domain name after all) to blog about my debt free diary and my no spend year.

I thought all I would do was post about my finances, as that is what interested me.

But it became more than that.

I didn’t want to depress people, but I started having bad blips and bad moments of anxiety and I changed my medication to try and help me cope with that. I wrote about those days. I noticed that they got more attention than any of my previous posts, which I only mention because it made me realise there are others like me.

There are other people suffering from anxiety, social anxiety, depression, mental health difficulties, borderline personality disorder and the like.

I received comments, and I treasured each one, because it made me feel in a small way that I was reaching people and maybe in some small way I was helping.

I feel desperate, sad, bad about myself and the future. But one thing I don’t feel is alone.

So you may read this blog for all the talk on money saving and my financial weekly reviews, you may read it for the cheap and easy recipes and for preventing food waste, you may just be here for the daily posts of someone who finds the world a constant and daily struggle. You may be here because I have occasionally mentioned books and who doesn’t like books?

Whatever you are here for, I’m glad you are reading.

Please let me know why you visited today, what you like, what you dislike, whether you think I have too many spelling mistakes (I do try to keep them to a minimum) or whatever. Send a Haiku.

Thanks for stopping by. Here’s to my next 200 posts.

 

I Don’t Believe In Being Brave

Menswear are a 90’s Brit Pop band. Some may argue that history has been unkind to them. Others will say that they don’t deserve kindness, since they were essentially a manufactured guitar band with an emphasis on the ‘pop’ part of Brit Pop, arranged for the members good looks and rumour has it they were discovered in the menswear section of a shop.

They had one song though that many hold dear to their hearts, and that is ‘Being Brave’.

I am nostalgic for the 90’s. Despite the fact it had a lot of problems and I was no older than 10 by the end of the millennium.

I often use quotes from The Simpsons, or song lyrics as a way of saying what I want to say.

I often say the chorus line of the song Being Brave, which is ‘I don’t believe in being brave’.

Being brave is tough. And I am soft and malleable. I am pathetic and weak. I am incapable of strength.

The future is bleak. The future is black.