I Met Milli

I met a blogger called Milli. I recognise her. She’s a good person who could use some help. Couldn’t we all! Today when I woke up I posted on her wall rather than mine. So what follows below is my post to Milli. If you get a chance to stop by her blog and say hi, I think she’d appreciate it because it’s good to know you are all out there blogging and reading. Thanks for reading.

Hey Milli, so good to read another post from you. Thank you. I gather that you are just heading off to sleep as I write, whilst I'm just waking up. You are Rock n Roll Milli! When I woke up it was to write in my blog, but seeing that you had posted made me happy and I’d rather be writing on your blog today than my own. So today I dedicate my blog to you.

I wake up earlier each morning. What wakes me is thinking... the thoughts just crash around in there with no regard for the fact I may be asleep. Each morning I come down and write. Recently I switched anti-depressants and mornings became hard again... but I've been on enough of them to know that it takes a bit of time for my body and the medication to get into a groove. Now I'm waking earlier again.

Ok... you are probably wondering why this guy is waffling on about when he wakes up each morning... I would be. Here is where I'm going with this Milli. I used to sit in front of my GP when he'd ask me how things were and say 'man, they are bad... real bad'. He'd say... 'any good days?' and I'd have to think real hard. Depression reaches inside us and wrenches out all the terrible, mean things that we think about ourselves (core beliefs). It is what makes it so personally devastating and makes even living with ourselves a personal hell. Then it becomes hard to be objective... what we see is coloured by the depression we are experiencing.

Until I started writing, I couldn't tell you what was happening to my waking time from one day to the next. I know I would generalise and probably say that every day is pretty bad. But since writing I have hard evidence in front of me and committed to memory so I can see every little step over time. The steps backwards, and the multitude of steps forwards. My negative thinking is challenged by this evidence and smart people can tell when the evidence speaks louder than opinion. Without writing, or noting some other way what was happening from day to day, my warped thinking would have its wicked way and torture me into a corner.

Because I write, I notice the positive more than I would have if I didn’t. Even in the past when the days were dark… I knew I had briefly seen light, and could remember what it felt like and it gave me hope and a fight in my belly to get back to it. It was a long time before I learnt what hope could do for me… and now my sentiments on hope sit there on the header of my blog for me and others to see. Where there is life, there is hope. The tiniest little chink of hope in the darkest of places is enough for it to grow and claw away at the darkness.

Sometimes people can give hope to others through moving speeches or stories of their own survival. I remember my GP sitting in front of me confidently saying… ‘it will get better, you’ll beat this’. It used to p**s me off. But he knew that because he could see hope in me when it was small, and he’d seen enough people sit in front of him with depression to know that more win than lose. He was just rolling with the evidence.

At times of depression I need still to get tough on my thinking and expose my warped conclusions by contrasting them with the evidence. But now I know I do this because it gives me perspective and that gives me hope. And where there is life there is hope.

I tell you and I tell myself. Have courage Milli. There is plenty more to say, but this is all that needs to be said right now. That and to remind you that you are a precious miracle of nature, that you are loved by many and you are here writing like me and many others… not planning to end your journey. Milli, you are just getting started.

(Hug) Med