What would you do if you woke up one morning and the reality of getting up and starting the day seemed impossible? If you felt unbearable,intolerable pressure in your head? If the spark that is you has gone,and you don’t know where to find it? What would you do if you felt an overwhelming sadness that was drowning you? What indeed.
I myself am a mish mash of contradiction,confusion and effervescence. I love life. It isn’t what I ever thought it would be and im not even in the same Galaxy as my arrogant,eighteen year old self had predicted I would inhabit. There is a conspicuous lack of olympic medals around here. But I LOVE life. I’m motivated and determined. I work hard. I’m affectionate and loyal and honest. I’m pragmatic and cynical and blunt. I like me. Sure I could do to lose weight and be more pretty and make more effort socially,but I’m ok with me. My mind is a kaleidoscope of mad stuff,ideas,vibrant colours and I’m strong in my steadfast belief that in the middle of difficulty lies opportunity. A great man once said that ‘every experience is a good one’,and he was right of course. I have bumbled my way through life,getting distracted by shiny things and learning and laughing. I am HAPPY. Depression was not a thing that could ever possibly affect me. Ever. No way.
Except that that wasn’t true. In life,you pay the bill eventually. The consiquences of the decisions you have made will catch you up somewhere,somehow. And so it is. Like every single person mad or bored enough to read this,I have experienced terrible things and incredible things in my 34 years but I never dreamed for a second that there would be a problem. Charlie was born on Easter Sunday 2014. Three weeks of agonising prodromal labour and a lot of freaked out people (sorry Tesco users and the staff at Bloomfield) who witnessed me bent double and crying in agony meant that labour couldn’t get here soon enough. I’m not getting into the rest of this story here but after some pain that I thought (and wished,at the end) would kill me and an emergency disaster and operation,Charlie arrived. The summary of what followed is difficult situation at home,very poorly baby,wound infection,no one to share this shit with,animals to care for and husband back at work. I started to struggle. I started to drown. I felt like my brain was in a car crusher and everything was JUST.SO.DARK. Help came in the form of community mothers,my gp,the public health nurse.and also my best friend NW. I started to feel better. I thought that once you were over this shit,you were over it. I was wrong.
Nine months later,we negotiated a very difficult christmas and new year. Again I won’t digress here but family,money and legalities were turning the screw really tight in my mind. I just hadn’t caught up with that news yet. Myself and Charlie spent three weeks with five bugs between us in early January-four gp visits,a hospital trip and a boat load of antibiotics kept the show on the road. Just. One day I woke up and I took a stroll down self aware avenue. No lights on. No fun to be had. Someone had stuck the joy Hoover into my soul and pressed ‘on’ when I wasn’t looking. My mind felt like it was being crushed. It was so very dark. I was SO ALONE in this barren wilderness of nothing and there were no signposts out of here. I wanted to stay under my duvet. I wanted to be anywhere but here. I wanted to bask in the isolation,give in to it,rest. But I couldn’t. A baby to care for,animals to feed,bills to pay….modern day man doesn’t have the luxury of saying ‘not today,thankyou.
Back out here on earth,I knew i needed help. I felt guilty that I needed help. I’m strong,durable-nothing knocks me down. People are depending on me to be ok. What the hell is even wrong with me anyway? Christ,people would give their last breath for a tiny bit of the life I have. Suck it the fuck up,buttercup.
My gp was amazing,as always. He’s a fixer. He gets shit done. He is helping me through this. Last week,he sent me a copy of some bloodwork and enclosed a note that simply said ‘excellent’. Nice to know that some part of me is doing its goddamn job. I feel so much better. I’m seeing a psychologist to talk this crap out. I’m hoping to avoid meds. My amazing horse thrills me every day with increasingly fabulous work and my husband and son are thriving. Things are great. I’m smiling. I’m fixing. Im mending.I hope.