mornings

Here I go, indulging myself yet again.
But the truth is, dear reader whoever you may be, is that you are the only person I can talk to. There’s nobody in my ‘real life’ that I can share my miserable thoughts with.

Funny thing depression. It’s not that I don’t try get better, I try very hard. The anti depressants I take do help of course, by keeping the worst despair at bay most of the time. But they can’t cure me. I have to do that – and I kind of know what I need to do, but I just can’t do it. It’s impossible from where I sit.

I was reading a list this morning – 10 steps to happiness, which I’d hopefully downloaded just to see if there was anything new to try.
1. Exercise. Check. I already do loads. eg yesterday I walked 6 miles, then cycled 80 km. Still didn’t feel happy.
2. Eat  bananas. They contain a happy chemical. Check – I eat a banana every morning.
3. Go outside and appreciate the world around you/go for a walk with a friend. Check. I walk nearly every day; I adore the countryside around me and never take it for granted. What friend?
4. Eat 5 a day. Check. Do that.
5. Eat porridge every day for breakfast. Check. Do that (with my banana and blueberries).
6. Exercise faster to get out of breath. What? Cycling up hills over 80 km not fast enough for ya?
7. Play music. Check. Couldn’t live without music.
8. Cut out fast food. What fast food?
9. Do something nice for someone every day. Check. Already do that in my own way. You know, give lifts, listen to peoples problems, etc…
10. Write down happy things you’ve done/enjoyed/felt close to someone. OK I don’t write them down, but I do enjoy things. I go on trips and love to see new places; when I do meet up with long distance friends I enjoy their company. Yes, even depressed people can enjoy stuff.

But back to mornings, and here’s the thing. When I wake up EVERY day I wake with a dark, dark weight pushing me down. My first thought is bitter disappointment that I’ve actually woken up once again to face a day that I have to somehow get myself through. I’ll never commit suicide – I’m not brave enough to do that; I just long for that morning when I don’t actually wake up.

Since I have woken up, the battle commences. Somehow I have to get myself from this deep pit of misery into a state where I can function with the people around me. I have to build the character I am going to be. Some mornings it takes longer than others; on good days I can do it fairly quickly, but most of the time it takes a while.  Today I couldn’t do it at all and have been in the pit all day.

The struggle is there immediately my eyes open. To force myself out of the safe cocoon of my bed and try to put on that BM persona that everyone knows how to cope with. The fight can sometimes take ages, making me late – on those days it just seems so pointless to even try: to make myself go through the same routines for what purpose? If I do manage to get out of bed, I’m nearly defeated once more as soon as I see that hideous face looking back at me from the bathroom mirror. I’ve always been ugly, but nowadays those black circles round my eyes and the bags… horrible.

When I eventually manage to create my character, nobody guesses how bad I am. They all think I’m better. I’m good at pretending; I’ve been doing it all my life. It’s just a bit harder now.

I am sorry for the self indulgent whining.
And if you read it, thank you.

I just needed to feel that somebody, somewhere knows the real me and how I feel. Even if I don’t know who you are…

I’ve been told that it’s foolish to post stuff like this on the Internet and that I’m making myself vulnerable. But I’m way, way past caring what people think of me…..

thank you for listening to me. x


2 thoughts on “mornings

  1. I read it too. I know it won't help me reading it. I can empathise with it all, Barb, as you know.
    K

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