As far back as I can remember my life has been a constant battle to keep my mind stronger than my thought patterns. I deliberately try to stay busy so by days end I am exhausted and drop off to sleep very quickly. The mind can be very cruel, in a perfect world it would eradicate the bad traumatic memories and just keep the good ones alive. I try to lock all the bad stuff away so I can function and everything will be going great until some random little thing will trigger a bad memory. And if I do not recognise what’s happening and take immediate control I can go into a slump that will last for weeks. When things do get the better of me I feel like I am in control and everything around me is organised but when the fog lifts and my thoughts go from dark to pure and simple, and I suddenly feel like I have the energy to conquer Mount Everest, I am once again able to lock all the bad stuff away and start again.
I have never had any counselling or support for the traumatic events that have plagued my life. I was always told to “get over it”. I hate those three words; they can be so damaging to a person’s self esteem. I know I am all messed up and have been for a very long time; I have learned how to cope with day to day life.
I have been in quite a slump for the past couple of days. I am not sure why because I have been eating properly and this morning I was careful with my clothing because when I am a bit down the wrong colours can take me down further, like grey or pastels. They can have a big effect on my moods. Some family members will call me moody or cranky just because I am quiet. I don’t like being around a lot of people, I get nervous and lose my confidence so I end up standing by myself or I go outside and play with their dogs. I love dogs – they don’t judge, they love you unconditionally. I envy the people that have had a smooth ride through life, and they have found their serenity but it has always been out of my reach. It’s like looking into a glass ball: everybody is at peace, everybody is happy but there is never a spot for me.
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I normally would never discuss my thoughts or feelings with anyone except for one day when I was in my 40s I made an appointment with my doctor because I knew I needed help and instead of laughing and joking when I went into his surgery I broke down completely. He was astounded to see the real me and he told me he would never have picked it because I was always so happy. Apparently I am text book chronic depression and he prescribed antidepressants. I have never told family mainly because I did not want to hear those three words: get over it.
…Depression is difficult to explain.
Do you feel the same way? What helps you in those dark times?
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