Haunted

 I've been struggling for so long with a perpetual feeling of wanting to cry.  All the time.  It never leaves me. 

I'm being haunted by the issues I covered with counselors last year.  What confuses me is that I have never blamed either of my parents for abandoning me, ever, not even as a child.  I thought that after I had talked it through with a counselor, I'd be able to put it all to rest.   But it's getting overwhelming.  I'm upset but I don't know why and I literally have no ill feelings against anyone. 

I'm genuinely at a loss for what to do.  I'm lost. 

Lucky or not?

I try really hard to be grateful for the things I have.  I have a roof over my head, food, heating, a job, family and friends.  Most people would consider this to be a blessed situation. And yet I get frustrated. And then I hate myself for being so shallow and ungrateful. 

So why do I struggle?

I am a master of self-deprecation having experienced some considerable trauma as a child, an abusive marriage and and even more abusive relationship after that. My self worth really isn't worth anything. But I do now have a great marriage, and again this is something for which I am very grateful. 

I always try my best to help those around me who are in need, whether it be emotional, physical or financial help. If I have it, I'll gladly give it away, even if it leaves me short. This happens a lot emotionally and sometimes financially too.  My husband doesn't understand this. He thinks of himself as the most important person in his life. I think I'm the least important (and valuable) one in mine. I will often buy him little gifts to show my affection. He buys lots of little things too... for himself.  I simply don't understand that concept of self-value, because there's still a huge majority of my life where I was either abandoned (literally) by those who should have nurtured me; or simply told over and again that I was worthless. 

So here I am, emotionally conflicted and desperate for help.  I've had hours of counselling teaching different coping strategies and to help understand the trauma; but time and again it all falls apart and I'm left feeling empty. 

My dentist actually summed it up in one phase a few weeks back.  He said I wasn't decaying, just falling apart. He meant my teeth; but it seemed so pertinent to my whole life. 

I'm tired. I'm lonely. I'm lost. I'm broken. 

Green Therapy

For us this usually consists of a long walk in the forest or over heathland or by the sea.  It's never failed to lift my spirits, clear the imaginary cobwebs and give me a feeling of life and vitality.  Until a few days ago.  

We went to Durlston Country Park - a mix of deciduous woodland and breezy coastal paths.  As far as the wildlife was concerned, we were not disappointed.  Within minutes, we were watching in awe as a peregrine soared effortlessly over our heads and then sped off into the distance to find its' next meal.  This was followed shortly afterwards with a glimpse of our first adder of the spring.  There she was, basking in the undergrowth, her diamond-patterned, copper body flattened out to capture as much of the meagre spring sunshine as she could.  This was at the same time as finding our first geocache of the day; and helping the owner out by replacing the log for a new, dry one in a baggie (standard geocaching procedure)  As we walked further, we were regaled with rafts of guillemots floating on the sea below the perilously steep cliffs.  Every now and again a few would take off and frantically flap off into the distance, and a few more would join the group from another direction. We were also treated to aerial displays from fulmars and an assortment of other gulls, including a huge black backed gull who kindly paraded for us on a cliff ledge.  We sat for lunch on a stone bench, with a view out over the bay, managing to bag a second geocache in-between passing "muggles"   And yet none of these wonderful sights of nature managed to clear the fog in my brain. 

From there we took a leisurely walk into the nearby town of Swanage - the home of our favourite chocolate shop.  Surely chocolate wouldn't fail!  We came out with a selection of the most delicious, hand-made, fresh chocolates in a mouth-watering range of flavours.  And yet still my mood had not lifted.  So home we came to the comfort of familiarity and warmth.  
The following day we decided to make our first planting day of the new season.  Between us, we planted a row of potatoes, three of carrots, and an assortment of tomatoes, chillis, beans, squash and flowers.  To us this represents not just the new season of growth but also the start of our year of creation.  We have some plants already in situ from the Autumn planting session but these new seeds are the ones which will almost appear to grow in front of our eyes.  Very exciting and yet, still not quite enough to bring me back to my normal self. 

At least this weekend, I'm not any worse. The positive side of this is that I know I'm improving, even if it's not as quickly as I had hoped.  

Time to heal

As wafts of the most tantalising odours of chocolate cake climb the stairs to where I'm sitting up in bed; I find myself, once again, double-guessing myself.   Am I really ill or just playing hooky?

On countless occasions over the past few months, I've found myself talking to others about depression.  I'm not afraid to admit to all and sundry that I have suffered for a very long time - all of my adult life, in fact - from this debilitating illness.  I'm happy to sit and listen to others suffering similar symptoms, crises and fears, in the hope that if they can talk to someone who understands, it will help them to recover.  

What I can't do is take my own advice.  I remind them how important it is for them to talk about their feelings.... do I talk? No.  I assure them that depression is a recognised illness and just as debilitating, if not more so, than a broken leg... do I apply this to my own life? No.  I hear them all relate tales of similar issues in their lives, similar concerns, similar anxieties... do I accept that I'm as ill as they each are? No.  I'm completely and utterly incapable of taking my own advice and listening to my own wisdom (such as it is.)

Let me put my life into perspective.  For the past seven and a half years, I have lived a blessed life.  My third and last nervous breakdown was eight years ago.  I had been offered medication and counselling.  The medication was given immediately, the counselling took a lot longer to arrange.  Unfortunately, part of the breakdown came at the same time as I was plunged into bankruptcy by my ex husband (I must remember to thank him for that one day).  The resultant zero cash flow from that, combined with my second redundancy meant choosing between buying my medication or affording food for my daughter.  Of course the food was the only choice.  So after a few months on tablets - not nearly enough to stabilise my mood, I came off them cold turkey.  Let me tell you here and now, you should NEVER do that!  It brings a whole new horror to anyone's life.  But with a daughter you love with all your heart relying upon you, you cope.  You pull yourself through, even if you are a mere shell of your true being.  

Then I met the man who was to become my second husband and my life changed completely.  Every day since then, I have been treated like a princess, without fail.  With his help, I have begun to turn into an almost human being.   I have discovered aspects to my character which previously had only appeared as minute glimpses into my psyche.  Turns out I do smile a lot, I can laugh, I can make decisions, I can tease, I can create beautiful things, I can (most importantly) be a valued member of a community or circle of friends.  This is all new to me.  What I'm not is a failure, a disappointment, useless or stupid.  I do still feel like this quite often but those days are getting fewer and further apart.  It's not an easy transition but it is possible, especially when you get support and are loved.  It's not that I wasn't loved before, I just happened to have someone there all the time blocking me from that love.

Unfortunately, even a blessed life has its bad days.  At the beginning of 2013 my husband had a breakdown himself. It was worse than any of mine in its' complete destruction of someone who,until then, had always been an outgoing and supremely confident person. It was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced - my husband didn't like it very much either!  We resolved to get through it together.  I understood his fears, his pain, his suddenly inexplicable idiosyncrasies (I have so many of those it's impossible to count them.)  However, having one "loony" as I called myself, looking after another seemed odd. The irony was not lost on either of us.  After a year of struggles and obstacles, we started 2014 with the full intent of beating this illness.  And then for various reasons, 2014 turned out almost as stressful as the previous year, except for different reasons.  So here we are at the beginning of 2015 again making resolutions to be better and fight harder and to have the best year we can. But 2014 did knock the stuffing out of me and my recovery; so now my husband and I seem to be alternating between good and bad days and hoping that we're not both "bad" together!  

The last month has been my worst for a long time.  I've been back on medication for about seven months and received more counselling; but the first two months of 2015 have found me regressing seriously.  Hence me finally taking a day off work.  I've spent much of the past week sitting at my desk, desperately struggling to concentrate on my job but constantly finding myself fighting back tears for no obvious reason.  When my husband persuaded me to go back to the doctor last year, I knew he was right.  I could feel the depression advancing over me like a menacing and all-consuming fog; and, having been there before, I knew I didn't want to reach the point of breakdown ever again.  I'm now nearly back where I was seven months ago but recognising more quickly each time what my warning signs are.  I don't want to have to go back to the doctor.  So I have to start doing things right.

I need to start talking more.  I need to appreciate that depression is a real illness.  I need to accept that I'm suffering and will continue to suffer until I do something about it.  

I've taken the first step.  I didn't push myself to go in to work when I wasn't capable of doing so.  Next I need to talk, and accept. and then I will get better.