Recently I had found
a lot of stuff I'd written on my old PC: this one was 2009 and about
my depression. I had depression before I moved from New Zealand, it
seemed to disappear when I was so happy with my ex-husband, but it
came back not longer after we moved here. This one was written on 27
October 2009. I
knew I was going downhill. This wasn't starting, it was getting
worse.
I have sometimes wondered how
many people realise when they are slipping into depression, and if
they did realise it, would they be able to do anything about it? I
thought if I recorded my feelings and thoughts on my own journey,
maybe I can stop myself from hitting the bottom again – and if I
can't, maybe my words might help someone else.
I have fought my demons for a few
years now, firstly on my own, then with the help of Prozac. After I
met Stan I reached a happy place I never thought I would be, was able
to get off the Prozac, and attempt a 'normal' life, but it was only
temporary. What is 'normal' any more? Why can't I have a smooth
ride through my life, like most seem to do? My life seems destined
to be constantly filled with stress of one sort or another – I
think I have had more stressful things happen to me in my lifetime
than most people could imagine – and certainly more than most
people could cope with. Even when others have stress of one kind or
another, they only seem to have one stressor at a time.
I thought my life with Stan and
moving to Brisbane was finally the start of something good happening
for me, and for a time it was. But destiny seems to have stepped in
again, and from mum dying, Zam dying, losing my Ulysses family,
Stan's business collapsing due to the weather (sunny Queensland?
Yeah, right!), losing the house, moving, taking on more and more at
work (why do I do
that???), menopause, weight fluctuations and gain, failed attempts to
quit smoking – it's all taking its toll. Even my Lovan (Prozac in
NZ) doesn't seem to be helping any more.
I get so tired of hearing people
say how they can pull themselves up by thinking about how much worse
off someone else is. I can't compare myself to someone who lost a
family member in a car accident – I haven't experienced that so I
can't have empathy. So what if Jane Doe had a mastectomy because she
had breast cancer? I have my own breast cancer demons to fight –
lumps which thankfully turned out to be benign - and a family
history, both of which make me a target, so it seems. Why should my
problems be any less important than someone else's?
My joints and muscles ache every
day, I'm retaining fluid and feel like a gross fat water balloon, I
am so tired I can't sleep, I sit on my own in the middle of the night
and cry because I don't know what else to do. I have no motivation,
no passion, no libido. I drink coffee at 2am because, unlike
'normal' people, coffee helps me to sleep.
Since I lost so much weight in
2000-2001 staying size 12 has been the guiding principle of my life.
I love exercise, Body Combat is still my favourite after 8 years,
when I can’t or don't exercise I feel like crap. Maybe that's why
I feel like that right now. I thought by using a pedometer I would
encourage myself, but to go a whole day – including Combat – and
still do less than 7,000 steps is pretty disheartening, and to get on
the scales and still be gaining
weight is depressing –
quite literally. It's probably the main reason I'm in my present
state of mind. My life revolves around my weight now, and to have
gained so much in such a short space of time – even if it is
justifiable with menopause and fluid retention. I don't care what
the reason is, I just don’t want to be here, I'm not
a size 14, I'm a size 12, I spent years getting there and staying
there and I don't want to go backwards. Getting to 80kgs scares the
hell out of me; I know how hard it is to lose it.
I am so tired. Why do I have to
go through this? What can I do to stop it, to motivate myself again,
to stop feeling so depressed and teary and angry? Do I have a finite
number of tears or will they just keep coming? How much more do I
have to go through before I either start getting better or hit the
bottom. And what happens if I get there?
I
found out, too many years ago, that depression takes over a person,
and my original depression was the result of what happened to me 40
years ago. I know there are many other women who suffer this same
feeling. For me, it was continuous. If you are ever seriously
interested in what was happening to me, read my other websites: It's Okay to be Angry and the blog
Aneurysms with aphorisms.
These
days it's a bit different – I had the brain aneurysm surgery and
the stroke with aphasia 3 years ago. Some people are called strong.
I was. I still am, occasionally, but these days I don't feel strong
enough to get back to where I was, and yet I am strong enough to stay
alive now.
Maybe
that's because I know what has happened to me over too many years. I
think the stroke, with aphasia, has helped me – in the last 8
months - get back into myself. I hit the bottom of my depression –
I got there - when I was in a Bethania retirement village, and no-one
there cared. Nowadays I have a very few wonderful people who do
care. I thank them for helping me to be strong.
I
won't ever be 'normal', but I am feeling better.
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