This is a blog about depression. If you are easily offended or take offence to my very sarcastic humour, please do not read any further. Mental illness is not a joke; it is not something to point fun at and I fully understand that. BUT…when the going gets tough, sarcasm and humour is my defence and so I will be parading it around all over this blog.
If you need help, please get it. Whilst I hope this has a happy ending, I don’t know yet and given I’ve not been able to fix myself, I really don’t want others using this as a ‘How To Be Happy for Beginners v2.0’
Friend ML is my human alarm clock today. I was already awake but still in bed so up I get. This is meant to be my cue to go to the deli and get a coffee – i.e. leave the house. Do I though? Do I heck, in fact, I get back into bed and sleep a bit more. Bugger. This wasn’t part of the plan. I get another couple of hours sleep and wake up to a text from my father. This is shocking on many levels:
- I didn’t realise my father knew what a text message was
- I’ve NEVER had a text from him (see point 1)
- It’s a nice text message (see point 2)
Ok, maybe he’s changed? I’ve been lulled into this false sense of security before and it backfired in an incredibly painful way (think of more EastEnders story lines). Right, I can’t process this. Especially with the conclusion of yesterday’s IPT session being that I need to open up about things with my father. Let’s return to the wonderful way of coping by pretending the text doesn’t exist. This works, kind of, but I do keep re-reading it to double check this isn’t a nightmare/ dream. It appears it’s real.
On the topic of nightmares, I had one last night. It was an incredibly lucid nightmare so I struggled to differentiate nightmare from reality. My nightmare was that I was sacked. In today’s day and age and for my generation, it’s a high probability we’ll lose at least one job (This fact hasn’t been verified but I feel it’s somewhat accurate). So, obviously, having not been in the office for weeks now, it must be a nightmare. Never mind the fact my desk was exactly as it was last time I was there, never mind the conversation I had with a colleague that sounds just like a conversation I would actually have with said colleague. Paranoia kicks in and, in my crazy defence, it’s not completely unfounded. People do lose their jobs. I ask two separate friends to double check the corporate directory to check I am still in it. They both verify I am. Mmm, should I believe them? I’m not sure I’ve got a choice right now. All this worry is also such a waste of energy. Realistically, if I were to lose my job, I’d get another one. Not because I think I am some genius at the office but because I’d do anything, stack shelves, clean a boys school (yes, this was my after school job when I was 14), become a cat whisperer. The panic isn’t subsiding though. Damn it.
That’s when this Tuesday goes from not great to really not great. I start binging. This is a binge that lasts all day. I can’t tell you why, well, scratch that, yes, I can, just re-read the paragraph above! The binge takes a break for a couple of hours as I head back to bed. My old rule of not allowing my two cats in the bedroom gets broken again and they curl up next to me. I have a feeling this will backfire in the long run. I fear cats are a little like children (this is NOT meant offensively to anyone with children) in that if you give them an inch, they’ll take a mile. My boy cat is getting far too used to crawling under the duvet.
I wake up to my buzzer going. I have a delivery. It’s thanks to said delivery that I’ve not gone to meet a friend for lunch. This delivery was most definitely not worth missing a lunch with a friend for. Now, for some, this will be a very benign purchase but to me, oh it’s bliss. It’s a new mop! Yes, you read right, a mop. I lead a very exciting life, can’t you tell? I’m tempted to road test said new mop right now but I can’t only mop the floor. To mop the floor would require hoovering the floor. Hoovering the floor would require sterilising all the work tops. Sterilising all the work tops would require bleaching the bathroom. Bleaching the bathroom would require steaming the tiles… I could carry on but I think you may have gotten the jist by now. My cleaning excel list (come on, by now you’re not even surprised) is a list of 42 activities to allow me to consider my small 2 bed flat clean. I can’t do just one of those tasks, no no, that’s what a sensible person would do. I’ve been known to be up until 0300 cleaning the flat. Now, the next thing some of the long-term readers may be wondering is how, just how did I not know I had OCD. Well, I don’t know. I thought everyone gave their cleaners (oh yes, I have a cleaner too, on top of my cleaning) a 51 item check list to complete during each visit. Yes, I do realise that’s 9 more tasks than my list but she gets the joy of stripping all the beds, taking the bins out etc etc. My cleaner often jokes she doesn’t know why I pay her. I thought this was just a joke but reviewing the above, I am wondering if she’s being serious.
So, back on track. No, I do not road test the new mop. Depression is getting in the way of many chores today so instead, it’s time to take my frustration out on Sudoku. Not just 1, never just 1, 45 instead. Somehow, it’s gone from early afternoon to early evening. Oh shit. Ok, come on Patient C, do at least a couple of chores. I sort the recycling again, one can never be too careful when sorting one’s recycling. I begin the process of ‘re-fragrancing’ the flat – yes, this is a term that is used to explain my very real worry that people will think my flat smells of cats. Re-fragrancing consists of 4 strategically placed reed diffusers in the open plan area, 2 in the master bedroom, 2 in the spare room and 1 in the bathroom. All said reed diffusers must have a matching room spray. In the same way, I can’t mix shower gel and perfume, the home fragrance abides by the same rules. I’ve stock piled the next two seasons of fragrances whilst they were on sale. I don’t get as far as getting them out but the old ones have now been put away. I also finally get to hanging up my washing (which has had to be washed twice as I left it in the machine and consequently it smelt!). Given this streak, why not wash? I mean, my hair has been worse but that wasn’t an ideal state to get to. So, hair wash and shower it is. To really top this off, I pick out clean pjs for tonight too. Oh, tonight’s going to be so exciting.
I end the night binging just a bit more, because heck, I’ve ruined the day, I may as well truly ruin it. So, that’s another day at home where I haven’t left the house. Shit. Well, at least day care tomorrow means I’ve got no choice.