Month: September 2011

The way out of the pit:

1. Monthly appointment with Shrink is tomorrow – that goodness.

2. Greatly reduce alcohol intake – started last night. Am, of course, miserable but know ‘it is for the best’.

3. Return to eating plan that works for me – also started last night, fell in a heap eating pastries today at event but is OK, just a small blip

4. Exercise – still procrastinating out of this and scared about how ankle will hold up. The only way to know is to get out there so yeah, there’s that. The running gear is – at least – in a pile at the end of the bed.

5. Cutting but in a good way – have just cleaned off dining room table and cutting mat is out, as is fabric range to make a cot quilt for Jasper’s teacher. She’s going on maternity leave at the end of the term and it’s going to be from the class.  That and finishing off Oscar’s quilt top.

Onward!

So folks, give or take six weeks the black dog, the brain turkeys, the DEPRESSION has been circling. I’ve been aware of it and we all know what a blessing this is as opposed to falling into the pit and not even knowing it.

There’s been some tweaking of the meds this last month and a fair whack of “cognitive therapy” – ie trying to talk myself out of it. Both with limited success.

Am I ok? Yeah, I guess. No, not really.

I can do the positive talk – the taking stock, looking at this, the family, where we live and so on and so forth. I know. I KNOW.

I can do the “that thought is not helpful, now find one that is” routine. And have been.

But then there is the rest: the listlessness, the exhaustion, the desire to flee, the crying, the yelling, wanting to retreat, the self-loathing, the lack of enjoyment from things I normally love and on it goes.

Then I get broadsided by the clanger. The feeling of complete and utter worthlessness. It thwacked me around the head last night from out of nowhere. It’s like taking a hit to the guts, you double over, you can’t get your breath and the sadness that it brings is like the biggest, heaviest blanket you can imagine.

And now I am pinned by it. Full of melancholy and guilt and self-doubt and well, blah.

I can quite easily tell myself the opposite, that of course I’m not worthless and so on and so forth, Chef can do the same but it is no matter, it makes no difference.

I know I will get through it, I know it will pass. I do. But, you know, it’s just really hard.