I can’t remember the last time I talked about it. It’s not something I like to talk about a lot. Not because I don’t think it should be mentioned, not because I think it’s something I should keep quiet or be “ashamed” about. I guess I don’t talk about it much because I don’t want to give it any power, and putting it into words not only makes it real, but I feel it makes it powerful.
I think I’ve been coping quite well in recent memory. I have normal highs and lows, and the lows don’t last very long, or are often associated with hormonal swings. But every now and then there are times that I seriously just hate my life. It is hard to say those words. On paper, heck even in reality, I really don’t have anything to hate. Not technically. There are times I feel pretty hard done by. I lost my dad and my uncle both at such very young ages, I’ve had fertility issues, I’ve had dental issues…to be honest I feel like “all the shit” happens to me! But then I see a severely disabled child, or a funeral notice for a young mother who has passed of cancer, or a tribute to a gorgeous young woman who has died in a car crash (yes, all of those things were in my Facebook feed this week!) and I think “What on earth do you have to hate about your life, woman, suck it up!”
But anyone who has dealt with any kind of depression knows it’s not just a matter of “sucking it up.” Having a depressive episode doesn’t mean I am not grateful and it doesn’t mean I am selfish.
During these times, my chest feels tight. My eyes brim with tears more often than not, and it’s all I can do to stop them from spilling over. During these times, I feel like the worst mother and wife in the world. How can I hate my life? They are the biggest part of my life. I am coming to find that during these times I feel run down, unwell, tired and lethargic.
Part of the problem is that my life, now in my mid-30s, is so far away from what I thought it would be it’s not even in the same galaxy. I feel like a part of me is in mourning for the life I thought I’d have. Which is a shame, because that distracts and takes away from the life I do have. I’ve always been a believer in “if you don’t like it, change it” which is why I went back to uni this year, to get a masters degree. But that is proving harder than I thought it would be, which makes me panic. And then the whole vicious cycle starts. Panic, stress, run down, tired, depressed, mid-life-crises, everything-sucks and here I am. Not blogging, not exercising, not breathing and not living. I want to wake up and be excited about my day. I want to be excited about what I’m off to do. I want to have things to look forward to other than having the next bill paid off. I want to know that who I am and what I do makes a difference to someone.
I wrote all of that above last night and saved it. This morning, after a 45 minute weight training session at the park, things look a whole lot brighter. I even changed the title from The Black Dog to A New Day. I’m thankful that this time, a new day and some exercise has helped to lighten my mood. That isn’t always the case. I guess all I can do, all anyone can do, is take things one day, one moment if need be, at a time, and just keep going. It’s Friday, my boss is on holidays, I have tomorrow off with my family, there is a lot to look forward to today.
How do you get through the tough times? What are you looking forward to today?
Linking up with Grace for Flog Yo’ Blog Friday!