Rough Weekend

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’

 

 

I know my alarm went off but I am not sure I even registered it. I’ve also apparently slept through a call from my brother-in-law. Oops. I have some cereal, ok ok, not just some, a lot of cereal. Darn you, cinnamon toast crunch for being so moreish. I then transition to the sofa. I am meant to be meeting Aunt, Sister and Brother-in-law at 12:15 but at this rate, I am going to be late. There is no way I can pass washing my hair but there is also no way I am ready to get up from the sofa. Depression is a bitch. This weekend is the type of weekend I love but I am sat here wishing I didn’t have the tickets to the ballet so I could make an excuse not to meet them.

 

I finally make it into the shower and a quick wash, a quick hair dry and a quick application of mascara and I am ready to go. Oh, how I wish I could hide in the flat.

 

The ballet is stunning, however I am so tired that I start doing the head nod thing when you feel you are going to fall asleep. Aunt, Sister and Brother-In-Law use the two intervals to excitingly talk through the ballet and what’s happening. I, however, just sit. Once Mayerling is over, we walk the 3 miles to the restaurant, that’s a needed 3 miles to help try to beat the bulge. Friend AG is going to be joining us for supper and then staying the night with me.

 

We talk, we eat, we drink. The food was delicious and the company was great yet I feel like I am all alone. They all seem to be ‘gelling’ and I’m just me, on my own. I can’t explain it. I say bye to Aunt as I really don’t think I’ve got the energy to leave the flat tomorrow. I am so drained. Friend AG has suggested we walk home which is sensible given all the food we’ve just demolished. It’s also good for the step count.

 

Once home, Friend AG and I share a couple of pieces of dark chocolate before heading to bed. Friend AG needs to get up and going in the morning so I tell her to definitely wake me up if I am not awake already.

 

Finally, in bed, I think I am asleep before my head even hits the pillow. I have another headache and I’m already telling myself that I won’t go for a walk with Friend AG tomorrow.

 

 

I wake up at 0700 to my boy cat talking to me through the bedroom door but manage to roll over for a bit longer. Friend AG knocks on my door at 0830 and up I get for some porridge. Mixed up in part of my shit mood yesterday, I was thinking about all the food I could binge on today, however, in the literal cold light of day, it’s porridge and therefore a sensible start to the day. Once consumed, Friend AG correctly points out I am still in pjs and I need to get dressed. As an ex-teacher, she has that authoritarian tone to her voice so I don’t even question it, I head straight to my room and get changed. My teeth don’t get brushed but come on, I wasn’t even going to leave the house so to now be dressed and about to walk is quite something. We walk and talk for about 35 minutes before stopping in the sunshine for a coffee. I need to get my prescription today or else I won’t have night meds but thankfully Boots is open. I still can’t get used to shops being open on a Sunday, even though they’ve been open for years! I am realising I am sounding a lot older than my 31 years right now. So, a poncey London coffee and a natter, I walk Friend AG to the station and say good bye. I am really hoping to get up to see her and her husband plus their gorgeous new addition, Labradoodle B in the next couple of weeks. They have given up the London rat race for the more outdoorsy North of England.

 

I head to Boots and get my prescription. There is a huge queue though so it takes 45 minutes. This turns out to be enough time to re-consider meeting Aunty, Sister and Brother-in-law for a roast dinner. Do I? Don’t I? Oh, I don’t know. I call Sister and leave the decision to her. She thinks I should join them. There, the decision is out of my hands now. The buses are all messed up so I have to walk the last mile but, my step count and large backside are very grateful. I am exhausted. Not from walk, I mean in general but the walking is adding to it. When I arrive, and take a seat, Aunt asks how I am. I reply, honestly, with exhausted. She proceeds to tell me that I am not. What? Sorry Aunt, I love you a lot but you are not in my body. Yes, I am exhausted. In fact, I’d really rather not be here but I am so please don’t tell me what I do or don’t feel. I opt for the veggie nut and mushroom wellington. Once lunch is done and a large glass of Malbec consumed, it’s time to walk Aunt to the bus stop. City mapper is telling me that it’ll take 38 minutes to walk home or 34 minutes to catch the bus. I walk. The step count needs all the boosting it can get so let’s walk and listen to a bit more audio book. Thank you Sunday bus timetable for forcing me to walk.

 

I get home and my steps are at 12,000. Good work Patient C, this will surely help the bulge. I jump in the shower and have a quick wash which includes my face and teeth! Go me! I then change straight into pjs and my dressing gown.

 

I am drained and it’s only 1630. I know, you’ve read how drained and exhausted I am a lot. I wish there was more ways to explain how utterly empty I feel. Every little step takes effort so the 12,000 steps took a lot out of me. I will use the trusty energy units analogy again. Just like when uber is on surge pricing, depression means I am always on surge pricing. Every single thing I do takes more energy than it would if I wasn’t ill.

 

I do a lot of Sudoku, and then decide to get colouring. Sat at the kitchen table I start to cry. I feel so shit right now. I can’t see a future for myself. I can’t imagine myself walking back into the office and being ‘Normal’. I can’t picture myself at the family home chatting with Mum and Sister. I can’t imagine anything past the right here and now. That scares me. If there is no future then what’s the point? I’m crying and I try to email my psychiatrist. The words just won’t come out though. In frustration, I close the email and type a brief posting to the blog. Sorry everyone, blog posts aren’t happening right now. I am going to down the meds that are keeping me alive and head to bed in the vain hope I have enough energy to face Monday and the hospital.

 

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