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’
Saturday morning and I am hoping that today feels better than yesterday. I finally get up at 0930, a whole 90 minutes after my alarm goes off. I’ve got a very exciting morning as today, I am trying a new flavour of porridge. Wow, my life really is one exciting journey! After breakfast, I decide to stay in my pjs and dressing gown. I am going to have to shower and get dressed to go to Sister’s wedding party so it’s not like this is a depression thing. I am struggling to get going today. Logically, it’s a hangover of yesterday and not leaving the house. That was a mistake, feeling ill or not feeling ill, I MUST push myself to go outside. I am sat here, watching some reality police force program wishing I could get out of going. How fundamentally shit is that. A sister who was so upset to miss the wedding is now wishing she didn’t have to go to the wedding party. I’m shit. I know I am not meant to be so punitive on myself but I think it’s clear for us all to see that this current thought is shit. I text Sister and tell her I am struggling to get going today so I may not make it to hers first, I might need to meet her at the venue. She says that’s fine, she’s also struggling to get going. She’s more nervous about this party than on her wedding day.
I’ve planned a proper lunch so that I am less likely to go crazy at the buffet. A binge eater and a buffet is never a pretty sight. I don’t like the one pot meal again so instead I top myself up with some popcorn crisps, fruit and a Greek yogurt.
Having procrastinated for so long that it’s only 10 minutes until the part starts, I finally get myself into gear and head for the shower. This is most definitely a non-negotiable as my hair is currently at the deep fat fryer stage of greasy. It’s the same as always, once under the shower, I love it and never want to get out. It’s the getting in which pushes the boundaries of the depression chains. Being in the shower also means my face gets scrubbed and my teeth get brushed. I’ve still got a few mouth ulcers working their painful magic in my mouth so it’s not fun.
Once out the shower, it’s time to get ready. For the first time in over 2 months, the hair straighteners get turned on. Once straightened, I realise how long my hair has gotten. It was due a cut a while back but depression and anxiety doesn’t really consider their timing when crashing down on your life. I’ve applied a full face of make-up and could totally pass as a ‘Normal’ human being now. My sister has the skirt I want to wear so I’ll head there in my top and trousers and make a quick change at the venue. I order an uber and whilst waiting for it to arrive, I realise that my outfit is all black and given the high probability Sister may have forgotten my skirt, I don’t think the all black look is really that wedding friendly. I then have a sudden brain wave. It doesn’t happen often so it’s rather miraculous. I have a lovely summer dress that I wore to my 30th which is absolutely wedding friendly. A mad scrambled rush to get changed and I’m out the door.
The uber driver gets to me to the venue in very good time. I may be late but it’s not that late. The driver is babbling on about making sure I give him 5 stars and give him feedback but it’s washing over me at the moment. I am so nervous. I don’t want to be in a room full of lots of people who are all going to be so happy. Deep breath Patient C and time to face the very loud music. I try to be the happy smiling sister-of-the-bride and say hi to everyone, agree how amazing it is that they are married and yes, aren’t I lucky to have such a great sister and brother-in-law. Aren’t they just the coolest. They really are. That’s not meant in the sarcastic manner it reads in. My sister has been cool all her life, she was one of those kids that naturally slotted into the ‘it’ gang at school. Me on the other hand, I’ve never been cool. Not once. In fact, if you look up cool in the dictionary, it probably states Patient C as the antonym.
I decide my drink de jour will be prosecco. There is no point mixing drinks when I’ve not been consuming much alcohol recently. I also decide to pace myself. This is something Sister as forgotten to do. She’s already somewhat tipsy and introduces me to the same person 4 times. It’s her wedding party though so if anyone has the right to be tipsy, it’s most definitely her. The venue looks beautiful, a friend has done all the flowers, another has made the wedding cake – salted caramel chocolate cake no less – and a friend is on the decks all night. All around the venue, they’ve printed some of their wedding pictures. They are incredible. They have completely captured how happily in love Sister and Brother-in-law are.
I stay until 2345 when I decide I am one more drink away from drinking too much but without one more drink, I don’t have the energy to stay. It’s a very sensible move I feel. A friend who I’ve known for decades ensures I get a taxi. It’s been great but I couldn’t have managed much more. I am happy and sad all bundled up into one tipsy female. There is no doubt I am over my calorie limit however, I think I handled the buffet rather well. Plus, sod it, if Sister’s wedding party isn’t an excuse to indulge then I’m set for a very boring life.
I wake up at 0330 feeling a little queasy. I was evidently that little bit more tipsy than I realised. I fall back to sleep and then don’t wake until 1130. This means I’ve slept through 5 alarms… yes, 5 alarms. My lumie, my radio, and my 3 phone alarms. In the same vain as last night, sod it, Sister is only going to get married once. I stay on track by having a bowl of porridge and, given it is Easter Sunday, a bit of white chocolate too. I then get dressed and wash my face. In fact, whilst up and moving, why don’t I do some cleaning. Yes, this isn’t just ‘some’, it’s all 42 items on my cleaning list but still! I’ve not cleaned for a while, what with hospital and all the rest. It feels ‘Normal’ and good. I feel I’ve accomplished something.
As I woke up so late, porridge consumption was late and consequently, I don’t feel like lunch. I’ll have a bigger afternoon snack to ensure I use my calorie allowance.
I do a couple of Sudoku but know I need to face up to writing Thursdays blog post. The fact I’d rather procrastinate by calling mum shows how much I want to avoid it.
It’s a good conversation with mum but now she can’t ask me when I am going back to work, she instead decides to focus on when am I going to meet someone? I should apparently not worry though as Sister didn’t meet her husband until she was 33 so I’ve only got a couple of years. Yes mum, that’s exactly how dating in London works.
I turn on a film, Dirty 30, in the hope it’ll make life all seem so comical yet it still all ends happily with the newly 30-year-old meeting the man of her dreams. Where’s my film ending to life? Supper tonight is a treat, within my calorie limit and not a binge but a treat it is. Pepperoni pizza!
I’m tired but I’ve got no choice but to leave the house tomorrow, which is good. I hope I can do some colouring or dot-to-dot too. I’m not tired enough to fall asleep but I am also too tired to do anything creative. I decide to catch up on Broadchurch. This turns out to be a big mistake. [Broadchurch Spoiler Alert]
Firstly, I’ve got a lot to catch up on which inevitably means a late night, secondly, the penultimate episode features a character trying to commit suicide. Apologies for the spoiler for any of those who aren’t up to speed. I’ve been doing Sudoku all though watching it, not really giving it my entire attention. This bit though, this part pulls me in. I start crying. A really hard, painful filled cry. Why? I am struggling to see a future for me. I am not sure if this is tiredness speaking, blind panic about how damaging this sick leave may be to my career or the spotlight that is shining so brightly on my loneliness following Sister’s wedding. The definition of depression is hopelessness and helplessness and right now, watching the character try to go through with killing himself, I am right there with him. The character doesn’t die, he’s saved at the last minute. The family are understandably devastated. My head is a jumbled mess so it’s time to call it a night. I’ll try very hard not to dwell on these dark swarming thoughts.