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’
Given the decision to stretch out my day care days, today is another day off therapy. I didn’t collect the parcels from Friday’s over spending night yesterday as I wanted to get home. It’s a convenient reason to make me leave the house today too. I hope it works. I’ve written a schedule for the day. I think one point may be too ambitious, going for a swim, but I want to walk to the station. Also on today’s agenda, write out the past experience that is holding me back in therapy. Writing things out gives me the confidence to speak. I am hoping it’ll be the same when facing up to these events. I’ve been putting it off, a sure sign this is bothering me.
The above is all good and well but when shit gets real, my agenda doesn’t happen. I get up later than expected and head to the sofa. It’s a heavy breakfast of 2 iced & spiced buns. Unable to concentrate on the TV, I relocate to the study area to do some colouring. Colouring was on the agenda but that was an hour ago. At this point in the day, I am meant to be changing and about to head out the door to walk to the station. Am I anywhere close to being ready to walk out the door? Nope, colouring it is. In fact, I spend most of the day colouring. Patient J3 messages me to check I am ok. I’ve said it before but it’s not fair of me to keep people waiting for a response when they know how dark things got. A lack of response worries them. I let him know I am fine but rationing my last days at the hospital. He offers to call but I can’t handle that so I tell him all is good
A lot more colouring later and I head back to the sofa. I am somewhat pleased with my colouring achievements, is there any way to make a career out of this? I’ve not done much else all day but at least I didn’t sit on the sofa staring at the TV for hours on end. I also manage to clean the litter tray, clean the litter bin and top up the cat food holder. That’s a cat heavy chore list but I do love my fur babies.
At about 1530, I message Friend ML to ask if I should go to collect my parcels. She doesn’t reply until gone 1700 – how very rude! Never mind you are at work doing important things, I need help deciding. She thinks I should go but the problem is, it’s now nearly rush hour and I can’t face a crowded London station at the moment. Nope, I’ll do it tomorrow even though I know that will put me under time pressure. Instead, why don’t I bring my colouring book into the kitchen and watch some TV whilst colouring. Great idea I hear you say.
Mum calls part way through. I am tempted to ignore it but have a last-minute change of heart. It’s Wednesday and she’s playing by the rules. I am impressed that she is, I underestimated her. The call isn’t great though. Yet again, she wants to know if I am better yet. I tell her, yet again, it’s not that simple. I change topics back to her, it’s easier and safer for the both of us. I remind her I am heading to some friends for the weekend to have a break from London. These friends will take care of me, let me do what I need to do and all the while cook me lovely meals. Perfect! They also have two gorgeous little rugrats so I can re-charge on baby/ toddler therapy. I lie to mum. I’m not proud of it but it’s going to make my life easier. I tell her I don’t think I have signal where they live. They do, my phone works perfectly well there. Mum doesn’t know this though. I tell her not to worry that I won’t be in contact and I can’t wait to see her on Monday. Another lie has just parted my lips, I most definitely can wait to see her on Monday.
Monday will not be fun. Monday is a mini hen party for my sister. Mum, sister and I are going to the pool for a swim, sauna and catch up. That means I am going to have to put my expanding waist into a swim suit whilst also have mum ask me if I am better. It’s not Monday yet though so let’s concentrate on the weekend first. One step at a time.
I consider going to bed at a sensible time but instead start worrying about what to pack for the weekend. Things like this make me realise I am sicker than I thought. Decision making is currently terrifying. The prospect of getting something wrong feels like a life or death decision. As a result, I pack a large suitcase full of enough clothes and things that I may be mistaken for moving in with Friends KH & RH. This carries on until the early hours of the morning before I finally give up and go to bed. I don’t think today has been hugely successful. Whilst it’s been more productive then it could have been, and I’ve done more than I was doing pre-hospital admittance, I’ve not left the flat, I’ve not washed and I’ve not done everything I told myself I was meant to do. I hope I can cope this weekend.