this is how it feels

There are different ways this story can unfold.

 

Sometimes A Big Bad Thing happens, and you can’t cope.  Mostly, people understand this one, for a while at least.  They’re patient, offer sympathy and support, let you cry on their shoulder, and forgive and forget when you let them down, repeatedly.

 

Then there are the times (late November is good for this one) when you know it’s all going a bit wrong, but you don’t realise how wrong, because the slide down into the darkness is so slow, so gradual that even with hindsight you can’t say when it began, because nobody realised it was happening until you’d gone way past the line, and it was too late.

 

But other times, life’s been going pretty well,  you’re coping, even having some fun, so  maybe you choose to ignore a few warning signs.  Let your calendar fill up, don’t quite get enough sleep, tell yourself that you thrive on stress anyway…

 

Then (pow!zap!kerrash!) you wake up one morning (possibly, but not necessarily a Monday)  and the black dog’s back with an overwhelming vengeance and you know with a certainty that your day/ week / life is more than you can possibly cope with.  So you go through your diary, wondering what you can weed out.  Social life goes first, because you just don’t have the energy, and nobody really wants to see you anyway, do they?  It’s not enough, so then you wonder which voluntary commitments you can cancel, who you’re going to be letting down this time.  Work is always the last thing to go, because you’d rather die than admit how you’re feeling to your colleagues.*

 

This is how it feels, to live with depression.

 

Head fecked.  Flags waving.   Please look out for my children; they could probably do with a little extra love.

 

*NB.  At this point, life (with glorious irony) may opt to throw a little extra crap at you in the form of a boiler gushing water all over your hall, thus wrecking your plans to spend an afternoon hiding under your duvet and leading to unseemly shouting at the British Gas employee who has the misfortune to answer your call.

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10 Comments

Filed under a little bit mad

10 responses to “this is how it feels

  1. Jane

    It’s OK. *hug* I’m not entirely sure what useful thing I can say or do: other than reassure you that you’ll come out the other side again at some point. And, in the meantime, rest as well as you can and eat as well as you can, and read, and walk. These things help.

  2. Nell

    Jane speaks sense. I do not therefore have anything to add, still wish i had that magic wand. And the British Gas send a competent engineer and it doesn’t cost the earth. Much love and hugs xx

  3. Liz

    *hugs* sending you some extra love as well.

  4. Lots of love Depression sucks, it really does – and if you can’t see any light at the end of the tunnel go to your doctor. Sharpish. Please?

  5. *hugs* love to all, but especially to you because those times when it’s hard to love yourself are the times you need extra love from the rest of us.

    This *is* how it feels. But even though sometimes it lasts so long you’re not sure when it didn’t feel like this, try to keep sight of the fact that sometimes life isn’t so…heavy.

    Knitted-flag-waving is good. If you get tired of waving the flags, run them up the flag pole instead (conserves energy).

  6. katherinea

    “Nobody really wants to see you anyway, do they?” I know a lot of nobodies then, don’t I?
    Is there anything I can do from down here?

  7. Viv

    This is sadly familiar to me. Karin suggested I visit.
    I think what gets to me most is that you are “forgiven” for one episode or even two but after that, I really don’t think that many people understand unless they have been through something similar. And many of those who have want to have you seek and use the same methods as they have used; they become attached to and invested in them
    best wishes from another depressive.
    xx

  8. aitchemelle

    No words but love and *hugs* x x x look after yourself x

  9. Gnome

    Lots and lots of love and hugs. Tell me if I can do anything useful, honestly.

  10. Catriona

    If you are ill, you are ill. And it’s not your fault. If you need time off work to recover, then take it. If your colleagues don’t understand, then tough. Ten years ago I had a fairly major crisis, which had probably built up over, oh, 40 years or so. One of the worst things was admitting to myself, and to other people, that I was depressed. And you are correct, a lot of people don’t understand. But that’s their problem, not yours. Do what you need to do to get well. And take care.

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