I am not o.k
I am really, really not o.k...while you may see me down the
street, at my workplace and think “gee, she looks fine..happy even”..I am so
far from o.k I’d need a passport to find it.
You see, I have depression. Severe, bury yourself in a hole depression.
Megawatt, kilolitre, buy in bulk variety depression and, at the moment, it is
winning the battle of me.
I have come to a conclusion, not all counsellors truly
understand depression and it is extremely costly exercise to find one that
does. I have been going to counselling on and off for quite a long time now. To
be told again and again to meditate, learn to relax, let the leaves of my
problems go floating away on an imaginary stream, it will get better. What a
crock!
This depression, and often anxiety, is brought on by not
understanding how I fit in this world or how to cope with an overload of
information. During these times, like now, I fear crowds (or people in general,
really), one word from them and I am like a deer in the headlights, stricken by
fear.
I am currently trying a new tactic. I am allowing myself to
sit quietly with my depression to see if I can notice triggers, patterns
emerging and possible strategies that may help me when I feel it coming. It is
not easy to do as my husband is quite loud and intrusive (without intending to
be) and often triggers the people anxiety I mentioned before.
See, I took a week off work to test out this new theory.
Backing on to the Easter weekend, I thought it would be a good time to test the
waters. Not to be...my husband also had Tuesday off and is working 11am to 4pm
every other day so...I wake to him clanging around the kitchen having
breakfast, shower, using my computer and not leaving the house until 10:30am.
My nerves are so shot by then that often instead of taking a walk, heading off
to paint (or generally doing anything that may require running in to people), I
retreat to the lounge room and turn on the television hoping that miraculously
it will remove my problems. You see, TV does not pressure you to perform or
interact, instead it does all the talking and just lets you blissfully listen
(or not).
My marriage is stressing me out. I have been married now for
almost 5 years and with this man for 9 years so far. My longest relationship
before that lasted 3 years (and that was only barely!) which ended awkwardly
and almost 12 months later I had to deal with his suicide on the other side of
the planet. So not cool.
I am not one to “roll with the punches” or “wing it”, I am a
planner, but I am married to a man who does (a reactionary if you will). We are
working on improving the level of assertion he plays in the marriage to improve
my mental state. I have to work on my part, to find the balance between being
an enabler or being a submissive. It is really, really sucky and really, really
hard to release the reins I have been holding in a death grip for so long just
to cope.
I have forgotten how it feels to really laugh, to play
games, to enjoy some witty repartee. I have even forgotten how to cry. You see,
many of the people I know, including my husband, do not share my type of humour
and my family (who taught me) are miles away with their own families to deal
with. My friends are still kind of new to me and I am daunted by the prospect
of sharing the depth of my situation with them. I am afraid of having them
lecture me on what to do, how they cope, or worse, include others to share more
opinions. I don’t feel like they truly know me or, in many cases, are whole
enough themselves to cope with me at this level. This is the extent of
loneliness that stems from depression.
Did I mention I am 20 kilos overweight? I was a skinny mini
when I met my husband, size 8 to 10, smoker, non breakfast eater, and a camel
on the water intake. I have poured over the photographs of our time together
and I am truly saddened to see me getting bigger and bigger with each year that
passed. I see a few reasons behind this, all of them I must confront fully in
order to heal and move forward. First, I gave up smoking about 12 months in to
the relationship and my body freaked out, my metabolism became non-existent
even though I still tried to eat well. Secondly, my husband was like a Croatian
grandmother, convinced I did not eat enough. If he was still hungry, then I
must be too. The serving sizes kept increasing and I was never one to waste
good food (I was taught better than that!). Thirdly was work, and this is a
story in itself to share another day. Suffice to say, I could not win the job
war and depression was calling me home again. Finally, I succumbed to comfort
eating, trying to fill a hole that had nothing to do with carbs, sugar or
fibre, it was loneliness, pure and simple loneliness. That feeling that you
just don’t belong no matter how many people you meet or how many clubs you
join.
I am at an impasse on where to start. As I have mentioned, I
have had numerous bouts of counselling which always seem to get only so far
before going sour. If I were to speculate, I would say it was the point where a
certain amount of autonomy should have been assimilated, by me, in to my
routine based on the previous sessions, but had not, thus having me think I am
getting nowhere and wasting their time (and my money). I just cannot seem to do
what they ask of me.
I have a list a mile long of things I would like to achieve:
De clutter my house
Renovate
Build some furniture
Enter an Art prize
Sell an artwork
Lose the offending 20 kilos
Wear a bikini again
Tour a non-English speaking country (or two..or ten)
Earn a living creatively
Learn to weld
Get debt free
Find my groove
I have the patience to achieve my goals over a long stretch
of time as long as I know I am making headway. I maintain the philosophy that
every new minute is a new start, a new beginning. It is what keeps me going
every day.
