depression

I am ready now to fall…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 3 Comments

Dear Baby,

I still write baby even though you’d be almost grown now. You’d be pretty much a man, which is very scary. I bet you’d be amazing, though. I picture you as tall & sensitive & just a tiny bit reckless. I know we’d have butted heads, but I’d love your fire. 

 I’m feeling pretty raw this year. You have another sibling who didn’t make it to life. I have another reason to cry. I have reasons to smile too. I’m doing ok. 

I’d be better if I was buying cake & wrapping presents, but life had other plans for us. I had to learn to be strong & you were destined for somewhere more beautiful than this world. 

I’m ready now. Love, loss, life, I can take it all in my stride. I am ready to to mother a child I can hold in my arms as well as my heart. I have wonderful new little people to cherish, I have hope & I will always carry you with me. That’s enough for now.

Love always,

Mum.

Xxx

Words are flowing…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 1 Comment

Words have always been my religion. Whether the beauty you can create with words or what I could say when I wrote made me a writer is my own personal chicken & egg. Regardless, the fact remains, I worship words. In that adoration lies a certain obsession; from worrying over a sentence for an hour to finding affinity in someone else’s perfect phrase. Which, is exactly what I want to tell you about. 

In the past week I’ve come across two such phrases that at different points in my life seemed made for me. Across the Universe is one of The Beatles songs I immersed myself in as a teen. I still love it, but the words have become so familiar that they often just wash over me. Well, on bus last week for some reason I was really listening. When I reached the chorus, one line flooded me with feeelings from times gone:

‘Nothing’s gonna change my world’ 

I vividly recalled being 15 & completely believing that nothing could shake me. I had at that point lived a charmed life. A life of love & safety & competence that had formed a girl confident she could take on the world. And win. 

I look back on that version of me with such mixed feelings. I’m proud of her; she was the weird girl that managed to be popular. The smart girl that partied. Even at 15 she knew her convictions mattered & those who felt threatened by that could fuck off. It takes a specfic kind of teenage courage to own that you are different & to celebrate it. Oh, the plans she had. It never once occurred to her that anything could knock her down. 

I’m welling up writing this because I know what happened next. It took years of therapy, but I can finally feel compassion for that cocksure girl that fucked it all up. Now, after years of blame, I want to protect her. A story of my history & evolution in 5 words. 

A few days later, in a fit of insomnia, I was flicking through tv channels & found Girl Interrupted. The first time I read this the description of suicidal thoughts clicked. 

‘Once you’ve posed that question, it won’t go away’

I hadn’t heard anyone else voice this cold fact before, but it was true. Once I had seriously considered suicide, it never really went away. Killing myself became the solution to every problem. So many of Susanna Kaysen’s words rang true. Hearing my terrifying feelings expresssed out loud somehow justified my pain. 

All I ever heard about suicide or self harm was don’t do it. People often talk in well meaning platitudes. They’ll tell you that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Life will get better, they insist. It’s all meaningless. When you are in that hole, getting out doesn’t seem possible. More over, even if you believe that someday, you might be happier, it does nothing to assuage your current pain. Severe depression is torturous. There is a comfort in knowing an escape hatch exists. For a long time the knowledge that if I couldn’t take anymore of life I didn’t have to was the one thing that kept me alive. 

Watching that film again brought back those dark times. More than that, Kaysen’s words brought a sense of peace. In my suicidal days, having my daily struggle with those thoughts acknowledged was powerful. Now, realising that suicide is no longer my default trouble shooter is compelling. 

Sometimes it takes a glance at the past to see how far I’ve come. I know those feelings can return. Which is why these words still resonate. Another example of a handful of words spelling out the story of life. 

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And so it is the colder water…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 6 Comments

It’s been around 8 weeks since I miscarried. I think all things considered, I am doing ok. I mean, I’ve not completely fallen apart. I haven’t turned to scalpels for comfort or absented myself from the world. I’m getting up & painting my face & taking part in life. I wish I could say it was easy, but on days like today, it feels like drowning. 

I am attending the recurrent miscarriage clinic to see if there are any issues I am not already aware of & the midwife I see has been wonderful. She had given me info on a ‘support group’, which I’m considering. I’m on some new meds to help with PCOS & tracking my periods etc to keep on eye on things from that side. I’m socialising & blogging & getting more politically active. I’m doing everything i can think of to keep moving forward. So why do I feel like I’m wedged in wet sand?

I think about what might have been every day. Not all day long, but it’s never far away. There are so many reminders. So many painful things that can’t be avoided. From appointments at the maternity hospital & other people’s babies to just the scent of something that made me nauseous when I was pregnant & doesn’t anymore. I don’t want the world to stop. I don’t want to rob anyone of their joyous moments; it’s just so hard. The happiness I feel for others comes with a stab of sorrow. It’s been this way for so long, but my recent loss has given that sadness renewed potency. I let all my hopes out of a place I kept tied up tight. Blueprints for a life that I hadn’t dared to examine sprang to life & folding up those plans is proving difficult. 
I have my period again & I know that impacts on my mood. All of the sensations of menstruating mirror miscarriage symptoms. The cramps & sensitive nipples are reminders I don’t want. The blood remains wrapped up in my trauma. Forever a trigger. And yet, I’m glad to have the period. Not so long ago I had practically none. It’s a relief to have this increasingly reliable sign that my ovaries are doing something. Like so many other things the positive is marred.


I think from the outside I probably look fine. I want to look well. No, I want to BE well. I’m really fighting not to let my life slide. The truth is I’m struggling. My creative output is vastly decreased. I lack the motivation & clarity to write. Not writing is not good for me. I process my experiences through words on the paper. The less I write the more anxious I become. Of course the more I stress about it, the less I am able to curate my thoughts. It’s a predictable cycle. There are obviously more practical concerns; my words keep a roof over my head. 


My physical health hasn’t been good. My sleep is appalling. I know that takes it’s toll. I attempt to rationalise myself out of days like this. My exhausted, pained, grieving & traumatised self will obviously have lows. I know this is to be expected. That knowledge doesn’t change the dread. It does nothing to chase away the fear when I awake to a complete inability to function. When nothing shifts the weight crushing me or the desire to disappear. 24 hours isn’t a long time except when your swamped in depression. I can get through the bad days. I’m just terrified of the days multiplying. 
That’s the crux of it. Mental illness feels a bit like being an alcoholic. I will never completely recover. The lows will always come. Life will always have ways to trip me up. The fear of everything unravelling sits quietly on my shoulder. It’s a bad day. I’m still grieving. I hope for better. 

There is a crack in everything….

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

So, here I am apologising for my absence again. I’ve had an iffy few weeks. To begin with there was bad health news, which left me struggling to keep my mood boyant. Then there was a new medication that makes me nauseous 24/7 & vom almost everything I eat. Finally, there is the Trump debacle & that’s hit me even harder than I thought it would. 

For a bleeding heart leftie like me the current political climate is an anathma. I don’t want to write another horrified how did this happen piece, but I don’t feel able to say nothing. I perhaps sounds naive, but I really do believe in governing for the greater good. Sometimes that involves sacrifices & I am happy to make some to ensure the basic well being of everyone. I am utterly disgusted by the rise of the politic of fear & hate. I have watched with growing dismay as we slip further to the right & minds slide closed. I’m tired of hearing about downtrodden people voting against the establishment. There is no excuse for supporting racism, misogyny, homophobia & all manner of vile prejudice. Raising the privileged & corrupt is not only wrong, it’s incredibly stupid. As already witnessed in the UK, those who already have the least lose the most. 

With far right parties gaining popularity across Europe; I fear the worst is yet to come. Marine Le Pen is already talking about creating a new world. That world is not one that I care to live in. For the first time in my life I am scared of the direction society is being pushed. I say that in the full knowledge that I live in a progressive country & hold privileges many don’t. I cannot even begin to imagine the terror others must be feeling. 

So, forgive me if I am lack inspiration & my words are ineloquent. It feels as though decent people have received a damaging blow. I know we must stay in the fight & I intend to keep my fists up.  I hope you will be with me. 

The mirror has two faces…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 5 Comments

Yesterday I performed a fairly miraculous transformation. I was so impressed with myself that I felt the need to share my handy work. 

I posted the above on Facebook with the caption, left to right & out the door in 40 mins. All of which is true, but there’s so much more I didn’t say. 

What I didn’t mention was how I felt. My head was wobbly yesterday. I am titrating Pregabalin slowly up to recommended dose. This is an issue because every time I up the doseage the side effects come back. Hence, my brain was not that sharp. Along with that my anxiety was troubling me. The thought of going out alone was frightening. I was of course sore; my back & feet are a constant source of pain at the moment. So, basically what I’m saying is the first picture is an accurate representation of how I felt as well as how I looked. 

I worried and procastinated for so long that I only had 40 mins to get ready. I forced myself out the door with the aid of diazepam, earphones & big sunglasses. I still felt exposed. I dreaded anyone talking to me or even getting standing too close. I got lucky with an almost entirely empty bus, but my heart was still pounding as loud as the music in my ears for the entire journey. At every stop I had to force myself not to get off & go home. Every bump in road sent a shudder of pain up my back. I persisted because I’d really like to have a real life. 


I met a dear friend who I feel completely safe with. We had a drinks & I managed to relax to level where I could enjoy myself. The weather was lovely, the company excellent & I passed for an attractive human being. 

I’m smiling in this picture because I was having a lovely time. I was still in pain. I’m always in pain. I say that not for pity, but as a fact. For my one evening’s entertainment I’ll probably require two days of rest. Today I am suffering. 


My point is that invisible illnesses are often attacked as not genuine & the weapon used can be anything sufferers manage to do. 

You can’t be that ill if you can work.

You can’t be so ill if you can go out.

You can’t be in pain if you excerise.

You can’t be depressed if you can put make up on.

And on & on & on.

I’m offering myself as an example. Some days are good, but I never feel ‘normal’. There is always pain & anxiety. There are nightmares & flashbacks & urges to butcher my flesh. There are days when I can’t get out of bed & nights of no sleep at all. It’s shit to have to push & push to accomplish everything. We (spoonies) have no alternative, if we want to build a fulfilling life, we have to fight. Wether we’re fighting to wash some dishes or to have some fun with friends we don’t need judgmental bullshit to add to our burden. 
Your reward for reading me venting my frustrations is the cutest cat in the world.

Swallow it down….

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 5 Comments

I’m struggling to believe that Jagged Little Pill is twenty years old this month. How can two decades possibly have passed since Alanis first got angry? More importantly how the hell did I get so old?

  

Jagged little pill has always been special for me. From teenage not quite angst to bonified adult pain, Alanis has had my back. So, I thought I’d pay tribute to an epic album & the journey we’ve been on together. 

Let me take you back to the start.  I’m 14yrs old & life is good. I have lovely friends, great home life, I do well at school. There is no teenage misery for me. There is however, frustration; a sense of being on the brink of life. I’m beginning to build a picture of what I want from life. I’m challenging some the things I’ve been taught & I don’t feel like my life view is taken seriously. In amongst all the vexation is an excitement. Possibilities are starting to fizz, I am aware of the power of youth & I can’t wait to weild it. I see right through you encapsulated all that I was feeling & I took every opportunity to sing it at the top of my lungs. 

Fast forward a few years and I’ve finally extricated myself from an unhealthy relationship. I’m heartbroken & angry. Angry that someone has been so cruel & furious with myself for allowing it. It’s Alanis to the rescue, I am certain I’m not the only woman who played You oughta know at full blast, cried her eyes out & felt a little better. 

I had some dark days in my twenties. Dealing with the trauma of miscarriage & resultant depression whilst trying to hold my life together took it’s toll. I became really ill & eventually had to ask for help. The lyrics to Mary Jane really touched a nerve back then. The realisation that I had to admit I wasn’t ok was a hard one, but there was some relief in listening to words I could relate to. It’s amazing how powerful just not feeling alone in your predictament can be. 

Anyone who has experienced difficult periods will tell you that it makes you really appreciate good times. When you’re fighting through bleak lows of severe depression the first glimpses of being ok are beautiful. The relief of finding that right now in this minute you are content makes you want to sing & dance. Hand in my pocket is the perfect tune to accompany this feeling. It’s not about joy or any of the big feelings. It just perfectly sums up the sensation of knowing you can make it. It feels good to believe that  ‘everything’s gonna be fine fine fine’.

A big part of maintaining happiness is knowing when to put yourself first. I have not always been great at this. Knowing when to say no was a hard lesson to learn, but such a valuable one. Walking away from toxic, all take & no give relationships was like shedding dead weight. Suddenly Not the Dr made so much sense. Reaching the conclusion that I was not responsible for other people’s happiness freed me to enjoy the peope who mattered. Sometimes you have to let go. 

You learn is bitter sweet. It signifies getting to a place in my life where I  I’d learned from all my trials. It’s nice to feel in control. In an unfortunate twist of fate mastering one set of problems coincided with the onset of others. This song also represents my chronic illness. The notion of a jagged little pill brings to mind both the handfuls of meds I must take & the metaphorical swallowing of hard to digest facts. 

After all that serious stuff this post needs a little love. Head over feet celebrates that moment when you know for sure that you’ve picked a good one. There is something wonderful about the kind of love that comes without a fuss. Head over feet is all about the bliss that comes with being with someone who treats you right. 

There you have it. Jagged little pill has been my musical friend for many years. There aren’t many thing in life that you love as much at 34 as you did at 13 & this is one. Every time I hear this album I still get all the feels & for me that’s the mark of a classic.