The worst bit about believing you are on a road to recovery from depression is veering off that road onto a bloody side street met by your Black Dog, shrouded in thick fog, and not having any reason that can justify this setback and street of obstacles to fight your way over. But that is the thing with depression there is often no trigger or no reason for its emergence back into your life, and it’s just when you think your back on track, recovery appears evident that Black Dog finds it’s way back home to ruin the party.
After a long weekend of camping and relaxation you would expect to feel relaxed, stress free and feeling good. This wasn’t the case in fact it was pretty much the opposite I was exhausted, consumed by stress and thoughts, overwhelmed by anxiety, and feelings of depression that left me not wanting to participate in the world around me, and wanted the sanctuary of bed. I managed to some how find it in me to get to work but while there I felt completely useless, unable to concentrate, find any motivation, not wanting to talk to anyone, and spending the day struggling to keep it together while everyone around me was jovial, passionate, talkative, and expressing to all that listened how good their lives were.
I knew this week before it had even started that it would be hard and a struggle to put up with and get through. It would be such a blessing to be able to sleep through days and weeks like these and to wake up with the sun on my face, the fog lifted and the car back on that road to recovery or even better wellness and health I don’t remember truly experiencing. This nice to dream, unfortunately they rarely come true.
The biggest thing that has plagued my mind this week has been my sense of failure. The belief I have failed my readers, my workplace, myself but most of all failing my soul mate who has vested absolutely all he has had and all that he is into me getting better. I know it is just a thought and I should accept it for just that a thought but I wish it was that simple. I also know that feeling and being like this is probably a minor setback that like the oceans tide will rise and fall. But this all little comfort when your in the moment when everything feels like it is spiralling out of control, it’s hard to contain the tears, the anxiety, the fears, and the depression from taking over everything.
At the moment I hope writing will give me some relief, I hope that by sleeping away the exhaustion, hiding until the storm passes that I will start to feel a little bit better. That with time the fog that fills my head will lift, that the feeling of drowning in the ocean will leave my body, and leaving the bed and the house will not be that hard that it leaves me crippled with fear. I really want to believe that there is light at the end of this tunnel and that this isn’t the start of the struggle that has plagued me for years and that depression won’t steal me into a dark world filled with demons.