A cheerful hello for this fine Thursday. It is a beautiful sunny day where I live, so I at least have a good day to be grateful for. I have been proactive this morning – organised my doctor’s appointment for next week, acknowledged that I really do need to be honest with myself, rang a couple of services to get the data I need (so that is now being sent out to me) and feed myself properly. This makes it a good day.
I did say when I started to write this blog I would share my personal history as I wrote and required an outlet for my demons. I really undertook this as blogging for my personal therapy but I decided that if others dropped by to read, it would be nice (especially if they left feedback or could relate to my journey and found something of worth here), however, I am now going to use this as I originally envisioned. I have battled my demons since I was seven and go great periods where they stay well in the background of my life. Sadly, for the past seven years, they just will not leave me be, and my life has been spiralling out of control.
I have become very good at covering up this fact and most who know me have no idea of just how close I am to the edge. I am lucky because I know that none of them will read this, so my secret is safe. If any of them get a vibe that all may not be as it should I just have to smile and respond with a chirpy “great and how is everything with you?”, or put up that cute little smiley face on Facebook for everything to continue as it is. I know that this really does not help my depression and anxiety but it gives me a sense that I have some control, and I do not have to worry that if my ‘mates’ found out my ‘head’ is defective that they would stop being my friend!
I am well-educated, and therefore an exceptionally well-informed middle aged woman with physical and mental health issues that I hate having out in the public arena (yes this does include sharing with medical personnel), I know what is accepted without question, and I am so good at playing the ‘public me’ I do not go out anymore unless I can give this performance. I am far more content with people seeing me as fat, lazy, arrogant, rude, mean and an array of other descriptives than for me to actually admit that my head does not work the way it is meant to. For me, it means I have major problems that make me a burden, a waste of space, and that as a burden taking up space I should no longer be here. I have battled with the concept that I am sub-standard, a lesser being, a person who can be debased because I truly have no value for my entire life. I have used make-believe worlds as a young child, and then drugs and drink in my teens and twenties to avoid my nightmares. As I was raising my own children I was able to cope a little better but I did have the demons there sharing with our life. I am so very exhausted.
After my children became adults, ventured into the real world, my demons came out to play again, I was in a very negative workplace that provided the perfect environment, and it made no difference how hard I tried to find somewhere peaceful, to look for a sanctuary, all I got was a brain overload. Since I recovered from my coma, and the doctors decided that my anti-depression tablets may have covered some of my symptoms, therefore, I needed to come off them until after they decide what is happening with my left-side frontal lobe, I have really been walking on a knifes edge. I do that self-talk/positive re-enforcement, and cognitive-behavioural therapy but when something is not as it should be, when your whole world caves in, it may be the smallest of things – can not find a pen in your bag, bus is late, or any number of other ‘normal everyday happenings’ going haywire – and you cease to function.
I really should be okay to share with my doctor (this is a person I truly am comfortable with and have a great amount of faith in), that I still have major issues with my head. I am so much more comfortable focusing on being overweight, the bone degeneration, damaged knees, and spinal curvature as these are issues that can just be put down to me not having any pride in my well-being, just being fat and lazy. I do not know, it may be because I grew up in a generation where ‘insanity’ was not talked about, politicians who created a horrible stigma for those who had problems with their mental illness by undermining the way in which it affects you, but I would rather people think anything about me than acknowledging that I have any form of mental illness. Do not get me wrong, people knowing I have had a bad week or am stressed is so very different to having them know that I have a lifelong miswired, misfiring brain.
If you are having any thoughts of harming yourself in any way, please seek support.