At the beginning of today I was going to write about a newspaper report from the weekend, which told how the New Zealand welfare authority, Work and Income NZ (WINZ) plan to push beneficiaries with mental illnesses into work.
It sounded just like what is happening in the United Kingdom right now, and was worthy of at least a post or two. But I struck a problem.
How do I write a post about an article which I simply don’t have the concentration to read? I gave up (for today). Sometimes I just have to accept that I’m beat. Right now I have little ability to read any more than around a paragraph.
Going back a few weeks, I admitted (see Blocked) that I was perhaps a little depressed. It was a ‘perhaps‘ back then, but a few more weeks on and I’m pretty sure that depression is alive and kicking.
At that time I was having problems with starting to draft a post but not being able to finish. That’s still an issue, but now I don’t even get started.
My heart’s desire is to climb into my bed and stay there. The stronger that desire gets, the more I know I am depressed. Sometimes it gets tangled up in the symptoms of fibromyalgia and genuine need to go to bed, but I ain’t fooling no one. Actually, that’s another issue, but I certainly am not fooling myself. I know this state of mind oh so well.
The thing about climbing into bed is knowing that I’m safe. Well safe, from my perspective. It’s like climbing under a rock. A strong, solid rock that won’t allow anything to fall on me while I’m not looking.
Actually since the advent of earthquakes in this city, we don’t really have rocks like that anymore. It’s not really safe under anything except maybe a door frame. Frankly I’d stay as far as possible away from rocks. But a girl has got to be allowed to dream, even if Mother Earth changes the rules.
Back under my (fantasy) rock there isn’t a lot of ruminating going on. I haven’t got that far yet, although no doubt it will come. It’s just me (and Ted) under the duvet where I don’t have to think, don’t have to feel, and don’t have to interact with anyone. It’s so much easier.
I’ve been expecting myself to cry. But there are no tears. I think that’s almost worse than the depression filled with tears. Instead I’m numb, and it suits me that way. Sure, tell me that tears will help but really tears are messy and there is the enormous fear in my mind of… what if they never stop?
What if tears turn this depression into something worse? And yes, worse does exist and from days past I know it too well. I don’t want to go there. So even without trying now, I stay away from anything that would produce tears. I just stay numb.
The thing about depression is that it’s slightly different for every poor soul who goes through it. I don’t think there is a right or a wrong. Just hang onto hope and keep going.
And on that topic, if anyone tells me that hope means:
Hold On Pain Ends
I’ll be around shortly to hit you over the head with my keyboard.
Well maybe not, but its really a bit trite, isn’t it? Maybe for some lucky souls the pain does end, but for most of us with chronic mental illness, we’re in this for the long haul. Pain might ease, it might even change it’s nature, we might find ways of living with it, but I’m not convinced that pain ends.
I often write about ‘one step at a time‘, and that’s what I think hope is. Taking that next step. Putting my foot out in front of me and moving forward.
Just keep on going
And you know? That’s enough for me. If I can just keep putting one foot in front of the other, then that’s enough for now. I’ll worry about conquering mountains when I’m not feeling so depressed.
“When you’re lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you’ve just wandered off the path, that you’ll find your way back to the trailhead any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it’s time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don’t even know from which direction the sun rises anymore.”
― Elizabeth Gilbert
- Blocked (infinitesadnessorhope.wordpress.com)
- Real (infinitesadnessorhope.wordpress.com)
- Borrowed Hope (infinitesadnessorhope.wordpress.com)
- Hope Is A Four Letter Word I Use Now (infinitesadnessorhope.wordpress.com)