therapy

Dear reader,

I feel compelled to write as I had my first follow up appointment with my psychologist yesterday. I had a bit of a 'breakdown' a few weeks back when I woke up-it was during a particularly sunny spell, the temperature was 20 degrees, the sun splitting the trees and humanity was happy- I on the other hand, felt bleak, heavy and sick. I could not move my legs. I was due to start work in one hour. I did what I usually do: I showered and attempted to dress but as I was putting on my clothes, I felt a real leaden weight and fell on a heap on my bathroom floor. I did not know what to do. I could not go on.
Frightened and desperate, I picked up the phone and called my GP, who gave me an appointment. I just about managed to dress myself and pulled back my still wet hair. What happened next was a blur: how I got to the Doctor's surgery I do not know.

Most of my issues are to do with self-esteem, and this is one of the main reasons why I am as ill as I am: apparently I have deep rooted self-esteem issues from childhood (more about that later). So as I went in to the doctor's surgery I felt that familiar sense of anxiety: I was scared: scared to tell the doctor what was wrong for fear of being thought of as stupid, scared to talk about my illness, scared of being there in general. So I did what I usually did and told the doctor I was feeling a 'bit unwell'- a bit of an understatement. He did what he usually did and upped my dose of anti-depressants. I told him I was scared for my sanity that day. He told me to get back in touch with my mental health professional (I had just finished an intensive course of CAT: Cognitive Analytical Therapy) and arrange something  there. I left feeling worse. There was no way out. nobody could help me and it was all me.

I broke down outside the surgery and desperately called my therapist- there was nothing else I could think of... I wanted to die but I was scared. I needed help. I was put through to the very kind secretary who arranged a call back for me. There was nothing else that could be done. I made my way back home, closed the blinds to blind out the blistering sun and lay in my bed sobbing. I called my work to tell them I wouldn't be in (something I had completely forgotten in the midst of my anxiety) and fell asleep.
I received a call back from the secretary and she arranged an appointment with a psychologist for 4 weeks later.

Yesterday was that day. My session was a review of how I had been feeling. I told him about the ups and downs, the stresses of everyday life, the pain and suffering. He has agreed that group therapy is best for me- talking in a group with similar like minded people who are going through the same issues. because, I'm sure I don't need to tell those sufferers out there that while you have the love and support of family and friends from time-to-time, it is very difficult for a non sufferer to really feel what you are. I guess this is one of the reasons I started this blog in the first place to communicate with others like me who suffer like me.

I will keep in touch to inform you of how that sessions are getting on... Thanks for listening!

FOMO syndrome

I was reading a magazine article the other day, ladies and gentleman, and came across an article which highlights a new syndrome: FOMO syndrome- yes, you've read it right! What is this FOMO syndrome you may ask? According to the article it is a Fear Of Missing Out syndrome and is related to Facebook. For those of you who use Facebook, you will be familiar with the regular updates your friends post on their walls: 'Another great weekend at the party of the century!' 'Living the dream!' 'Meeting all the girls for carnage this weekend!'

I for one am used to such comments as these on a regular basis... Yes, I am happy that my friends are happy living the dream and partying until dawn but, at the same time, I cannot help feeling a deep sense of inadequacy every time I scroll down the home pages of Facebook. Every Sunday morning, after I have spent a Saturday under the dark cave of the duvet, I scrawl the pages and read the updates and every update I read just exacerbates my feelings of inadequacy. I am left with thoughts such as: I should be living like this. What am I missing out on? Why can't I live a normal life like this and have fun with friends? Why do I lock myself away? The truth is, I do feel inadequate and I can't help wondering when it all went wrong. I just want to feel again, is it my fault that I don't or is it a result of the illness?

My weekend

Once again, dear reader, I have had quite a difficult weekend with my mental health and boy does it show on my face: I woke today with three huge zits on my face, I thought at nearly 30 the teenage acne had been and gone but it appears not. I am also prone to migraine and indeed I have had a stonker of a migraine for the past three days. That along with the big black bags under the eyes- which give me the appearance of someone who has been hit on the eyes with two snooker balls-means that I am not feeling that great. Physically and mentally.
What do you do when things are like this? I for one know how difficult it is to do anything when feeling like this because for one, depression is so debilitating. It is easier when feeling this way to close the blinds, go to sleep for as long as sleep will allow and cry to oneself. But, on the better days, one can reflect and realise that these actions are damaging and don't help in the least. For me they lead to a sense of frustration: when I come out of these black periods I think about how I am wasting my life and days like this are days lost on this earth. I also feel a sense of loss, like I am losing out because days like this means that I am missing out on a social life; a love life; any sort of life which is why I am writing this entry today. To loo back when the going is tough and think about the choices I have to help myself. But then again, that is always easier said than done.

Death

                                              Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath

Depression is a killer- literally! I have just heard some dreadfully sad news today; about the death of an old colleague who took their own life. The thing that shocked me more than anything- apart from the shock of the news, of course-was the discovery that this colleague had depression. The reason this shocked me is because this colleague suffered silently- when I worked with him I was never aware of any signs of depression and you see, that is the thing about depression- it is often disguised. We disguise it from our friends, we disguise it from our colleagues and we disguise it from as many people as we can get away disguising it from. But, it strikes. And sometimes it kills.

My heart goes out to the family of this colleague because, back to my original blog, depression has many victims- in particular, those who love and care for the sufferer. At this moment death does not exist for my colleague- in fact he is released from his torment. However, the torment has just begun for his family- his death only exists for them and they will suffer long term.

I too have disguised my depression for many years, well certainly from my work colleagues and friends. However, things got a bit too much for me last year and I had to take a spell off work. This roused speculation and, as often happens in the workplace, rumours began: 'Why is she off?' 'Is she stressed?' 'Could she be pregnant?' 'She hasn't been looking too well recently!' People were shocked to discover that I had depression because after all 'She (me!) was always so smiley!' 'She was always so normal!' 'She was so good at her job, you would never have known!'

 Why did I disguise my depression from my work peers for so long? Because I was ashamed- or that should be present tense- am ashamed. It is difficult for non sufferers to understand the pain and suffering that goes on inside the head of a sufferer. Words cannot describe it- some can get close: horrific, sickening, painful, terrorising, nightmarish...but no word in the English language can describe it.

The truth is I was a coward- I wanted to appear 'normal' so much that I spent the last few years of my life becoming so obsessed with being 'normal' that I ignored my depression and subsequently made myself even more sick! Am I glad that (some) people now know about my depression? The truth is I don't know. On one hand, it is a bit of a relief not having to keep up this pretence that everything is 'ALRIGHT' but then again people do treat me a bit with 'kid gloves.' Many people, particularly in the work place, and particularly seniors, mistake depression for stress-Yes, they are linked in some way but they are two entirely different things! They both evoke two completely different feelings. However, this misconception has lead my seniors to take away some of my responsibility and are often careful in how they speak to me. I no longer seem to have the same 'great worker, potential star' status I once had. It is as if I am tarnished.

The question is: did I do the right thing opening up about my illness or should I have trudged through life with my eyes closed, my heart heavy and my brain sick? I know what I prefer...

a mild case of the blues

Today I have had a mild case of the blues: not enough to send me into the deep pits of despair but enough to make me feeling lonely, frustrated and trapped in my own mind. I wonder if this is a normal feeling- after all it is Monday and people generally feel a bit hopeless on a Monday for a wide range of reasons- do they not?
I am guessing most people dread a Monday as it serves as an anti-climax: an anti-climax to a weekend filled with drink, laughter and friends? Maybe not, maybe like me they dread a Monday because it is another day in the mindset of a person with depression. Maybe like me, you never feel rested on a Monday because you wake with an ache in your stomach and a vacancy in your head. Your weekend wasn't filled with laughter and fun but isolation, fear and frustrations...
Today I went a walk after work to try to combat these blues- after all, a nice brisk walk does wonders does it not? Not for me, unfortunately. Whilst it did tire me out in a physical way- much preferred to the mental way- I found myself walking and thinking- after all what more is there to do when walking along? What did I think as I walked- I thought of how utterly alone I felt and vulnerable and exposed. All of this lead to a bit of panic and anxiety and I had to cut my walk short, unfortunately. Oh well, there is always tomorrow...

Hello!

Fellow bloggers,

I have started a new account to blog my experiences of depression- one of the most common words in our everyday vocabulary. Depression is a word that everyone, everywhere has heard at some point in their life (and I don't mean depression of the economic kind!). If you type the word into google you will be hit with 252,000,000 searches. Yet, the 'generic' term depression can mean so many things to the many millions of people who suffer from it.

Depression can be such a controversial word: the next time you are in work say to your colleagues: I have depression. The next time you are at an interview say: I have depression. The next time you meet up with the woman who has just lost her husband to cancer say the words: I have depression. See what you get...

 Of course depression is difficult to understand for those who have never suffered it- I totally get that! Why, no one likes a whinger or a moaner and at times it seems like all depression sufferers seem to do is moan and whine. I suppose my blog is just that: an area in which I can rant, whine and blow out my deepest and darkest thoughts in my bleakest moments so technically, yes, I am just moaning. But, the reason I write on a blog about depression, as opposed to in a regular old-fashioned diary is because I want people to read it. I want sufferers to read and hopefully understand some of what I am saying- perhaps they too have experienced similar to me. But, not only that, this blog is for the other sufferers of depression- and by that I do not mean the depressed patient but I mean the spouse or partner of a depressed person, because they too suffer. After all, can you imagine anything more bleak than waking up beside a person everyday who can't face the day? A person who at times will not talk to you, will not acknowledge you and even at times will turn your world upside down on a whim- you tell me that is not suffering!

Over the next few entries I will detail my experiences. Some days, like today, I will feel fine, normal or as normal as one can be; then there will be days when I will be at my deepest and darkest moments- days which I feel will be important to write about, especially if you want an insight into the mind of a sufferer. I think this will also be good for me because sometimes, on the good days, you forget the worst days and talk yourself out of being 'ill.' And every sufferer knows, pretending your depression does not exist is never a good thing. After all, that's what I've done for the past 10 years...