If you have been dropping by this blog lately I'm so sorry that the posts have been so desperate. It is helpful for me when I write things down and lovely when I hear from you, but I don't imagine my recent posts make for pleasant or easy reading, especially if you know us.
I have always promised myself that I would just write it as it is inside and on difficult days that can make for difficult posts. But I'm glad that some time in the future I shall be able to read these again and know how much stronger I've become. And I'm glad too that there will be others that get to peek behind the curtain and see what happens in our home when depression comes to stay. A greater insight into this condition can be no bad thing. Only the other day talking openily about depression invited the retort "depression, isn't that the new bad back". Campaigns like Time To Change have much work ahead of them.
The evenings are precious at the moment. I seem to surface as the person people recognise as Mehdi. Not always, but it is more likely come the evenings. That is a strange thing to understand and convey from the perspective of health. It is probably even stranger to be around. By the evening I might do a reasonable impression of being well again, and that is a relief and a break for Alicia.
This evening I played superhero alien robots with Xavier. Both he and I can become engrossed when role playing action figures. I warmed through yesterday's dahl and cooked a little rice for us. I sat down and watched a TV show with Alicia. For me these are notable events because they involve activity and leaving the bedroom: Two things I was unable to do during the rest of the day. Like an awakening, the evenings can remind me and others that I am still - in there somewhere. Silly and mischievous, attentive and kind, creative and curios. Behind the drawn curtains, within the heavy, lifeless limbs, inside those dark, flat eyes... I am still in there. I am recoverable, reachable, salvageable.
The other important gift that these evening awakenings give me is hope for each new day. That tomorrow I might wake like you do and have nothing more than sleep to shake from my head. That my eyes might be opened by an alarm rather than anxiety. Or at least that I might be able to do more than I did today.
Conversely the evening can also be a time when I make promises that my morning self can't keep. So tomorrow I plan to wake early, walk our dogs. Come home to make Alicia some well deserved breakfast and get my beautiful boy ready for the day. That would be just incredible.
Don't apologize for posting the sad posts. I feel the same way when all my posts are negative but you have to be true to yourself. Being able to write how I feel helps me alot. And seeing other people who are going through the same thing help me too.
ReplyDeleteThank you Amby. I feel like one of those dementors from Harry Potter, sucking all the good thoughts from readers and filling them instead with despair. Mind you, JK did herself experience depression and used the writing of her first book to lift her out of it.
ReplyDeleteI never feel despair when I read your posts. But I know exactly how you feel
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