In some respects I have succeeded; I have worn my high heels and smart dresses despite the weather or occasion. And it has felt great.
I have spring cleaned my belongings and got round to some things I'd been procrastinating over.
I have refused to get stressed over work or anything beyond my control.
I have booked holidays and invested in friends.
 |
| Feeling sorry for herself. |
Then Mabel got hurt, and so did I. She cut her foot flinging herself after a ball on the estuary. I got cut up by my blasted clouds again. She was back on her feet after three weeks. I wasn't.
It came from no where really - and that's what is so frustrating. However instead of dissecting the cause I have chosen to be far more honest about how I struggle. Because one in four people do too at some point and the only way to start to cope is by not being ashamed of it.
It's hard not to be angry that every time I feel like I'm getting to a happy place the wind is taken from my sails. It's hard not to feel guilty at how I let others down and am not great to be around. It's hard not to be self pitying and give air to the lies the clouds surround me with.
I'm having to learn that despite all the promises I make to myself, the resolutions I make public, the lists I write... for me clouds will come and interrupt. But sod them, I will still promise, resolve and list.
One way I've found to channel my struggle and dis-empower the voice that tells me I'm useless is to write. I'm not a poet and I'm lacking in a fair wodge of education... but it's wonderful therapy. It's all written with the intention that it stays between God and me, but I wonder if this little musing might be helpful to all those who don't know what depression feels like but would like to understand.
Like I said, hardly poetry. But sod you clouds. I am not ashamed.
As the light dims doubt starts to fill the air
All that was clear and simple now seems blurred
The dark begins its invasion, stealing sight
Clarity drains from view and calm threatens to fade
The darkness now crawling through the cracks
Increases its assault on my senses, numbing and dull
Now grabbing at shapes, the certainty of form so distant
I fear I’ll be enveloped never to be in sharp definition again
Now in the black shadows my soul is in hiding
Scared of both being forgotten and being noticed
I was sure I knew where everything was placed
But now the alarm of reaching out overwhelms me
After a while my eyes acclimatise and seeing is a fantasy
It’s safe here protected in the incomplete scenery
Please close all the curtains, let me slow to the pace of grey
I think I might find contentment here in the quiet
Here no one puts forward their shrill demands
The dark shields me from the empty, filling the nothing
Its power slows the rhythm of pressure and dims the burden
I can lay it all down here, lay me down to rest
