Sunday, 14 October 2012

Autumn leaves, but not before the sunshine...

So autumn is here, one of my favourite times of year.  What have I been doing?  Pretty much nothing really.

After a month on fluoxetine, I traded for Sertraline, and things are much more evenly-keeled.  I'm starting, very slowly, to overcome the insidious agoraphobia that creeps up when I'm not looking; the mood swings are back under control(ish); and I am starting to look at the next day in my diary.  Don't want to overdo it; next week is far too scary to face.

I've been knitting, of course; and have almost finished a project I started a couple of weeks ago, and which is giving me a big kick because I think it's gorgeous.

I am desperately worried about members of my family that I care for very much.  They are fighting stuff I can't begin to imagine.  Some people liken living with pain to suffering with cancer, expressing the view that the former is worse than the latter, and I can tell you now, it is NOT a legitimate comparison.

I live with pain, it's my daily companion, physical and mental.  I don't know what tomorrow will bring, or this afternoon, or even the next hour.  I get friendly catcalls when I announce I'm off to bed at 7 in the evening - I don't care, it's a good laugh, and the joke's on me.  But I know there will be a tomorrow, a this afternoon, a next hour.  And yes, I know that it will probably be teeth-gritting.  But it's life.  And it's as full of laughter as I can possibly, humanly make it.

Which is why I blog about depression.  Depression is nasty - it removes my deepest, strongest, most vital tool for dealing with pain - my laughter and my singing.  Actually the less said about my singing the better.  But my laughter, and my ability to make others laugh / groan / wince / gasp / blanche means I am alive, I am still me, and it enhances my ability to love and care for those around me.  Depression is the fire blanket over the chip-pan; you don't want to set fire to the kitchen, but you still want those chips!

I'm not coping physically.  I need help.  I'm too ashamed to ask for it, and I'm not able, at the moment, to make the changes that will make asking for it possible.  Why am I broadcasting this to the world and his wife?  Because it helps to see it in black and white.  To acknowledge that I'm human and weak.  And to hope seeing it in black and white helps someone else.