Doesn’t time fly when you’re a depressive? I can’t believe it’s been so long since I last posted. Sorry to anyone I may have worried by being absent. I’ve been isolating myself from almost all who know me, both on the net and in the ‘real world’. That doesn’t mean that things have been particularly bad. I just started to feel like all I ever talk about or think about is mental health. I’ve begun to feel very bored of myself. Yet I can’t escape it. I think about mental health issues probably as often as a teenage boy thinks about sex. They govern my life. If it’s not anxiety, it’s low moods, or voices, or aggressive thoughts, or pictures of my death. I am scared of being by myself, of having so much free time to sit and ponder where I have failed in my life, to make plans for my early demise, to worry about going completely ga ga, or to look forward to going completely ga ga. In the last few weeks I haven’t been able to cope with downtime. At home I need the constant reassurance of the background noise from the tv, or a book to read, anything to occupy my brain. Because as soon as I don’t have that distraction, the thoughts come back.
Unfortunately I then go through days of not being able to bear the noise from the tv. People’s voices are too loud and irritating. When I try to read the text jumps around and I can’t manage more than a page. Sleep evades me, despite the medication. I feel wound up so tight I’m going to explode. But fortunately this temporary madness seems to disappear just before it gets so bad that I can’t cope with it anymore.
It has been an eventful few months. Dad recently received his all clear from cancer. He is physically very well again but it appears to have left him with Victor Meldrew Syndrome aka grumpy old fart disease. I lost three stone on the lighter life diet, which is basically a starvation diet which brought on the symptoms of anorexia. Now I’m back to bingeing each day and regaining all the weight. My nuisance neighbour has calmed down after being threatened with court proceedings if he continued to harrass the rest of the street. I spent the summer watching Big Brother and staying up too late, which is probably what has caused my recent relapse. Now I’m looking forward (not) to that time of year where the days draw in again and I start to evaluate what I have acheived in the last year. Of course that makes me feel low again because I’ve done nothing but drift through the year, spending my days shopping, eating and sleeping.
I desperately need some structure in my life. A daily routine which involves more than just trying to get dressed and go out to buy cigarettes. I’m stuck in this rut and terrified of crawling out of it. I’m dreading the upcoming changes in the benefit system where I will most likely be told to get a job. Being around people, dealing with targets, just getting dressed and showering regularly is just too much right now. It’s been too much for several years. But that’s partly because when you don’t have to try anymore, you end up going backwards. I’m far less capable than I was three years ago. But is that because my mental health has deteriorated? Or is it because I have given up? A kick up the backside from the job centre might be good for me. But it might also send me into a BPD spin and end up with another trip to hospital. Now that Dad is better, I feel less inclined to hold on and stay well myself. If it wasn’t for the cat I’d probably have given up months ago. But I know I can combat those feelings by getting out and about and meeting friends etc. It’s just that the 5 yr old in me is screaming ”I DON’T WANNA”.
Oh and I finally got round to having Sky + installed and bought a nice big tv. I have become the stereotypical benefits scrounger. My goal for the next year should be to get pregnant and buy a Staffy.
Life from the sofa 