My hardest post to date…

Yesterday was not a good day.

I wasn’t okay.

I wasn’t even slightly okay.

From late-afternoon, I felt like crawling up in a ball in the corner and crying.

I didn’t quite get to that level, but I did sit on my couch and have a cry there instead, with my two amazing kitty cats on either side looking at me full of concern.

I would cry for only a few minutes at a time, and then feel like I was okay and had ‘got it out of my system’. And then it would be back. Over and over and over again.

Eventually, having perked myself back up yet again, I decided I was okay and took myself off to bed.

I lasted a good hour before it was back, probably fed by the fact that I couldn’t get to sleep and was so very frustrated, and I sat there in my misery and frustration for hours before finally I managed to get to sleep past 2.00am.

Why?

Who the hell knows.

I am going through a challenging time at work, I am on the edge of two big steps in my personal life, money is tight, this journey is sometimes overwhelming, and I am PMSing like a motherf&*Ker, but nothing in particular had happened and not one of those single things was on my mind in any real way… it was just an overall feeling of being down, being sad, and despairing. And because I felt like that, and I didn’t know why, it just got worse and worse and worse.

Even if one of those things had been upsetting me in general, it would seem ridiculous to me. I mean, if I look at who I am and what I have and the support I have, I know that I will get through this feeling, and that there is a ‘other side’ to how I am feeling right now, and to the challenges that I am facing.

I am a 30 year old woman; I work for myself; I am a homeowner; I am loved by amazing family, a few brilliant friends and a fantastic boyfriend; I am adored by the two amazing furballs mentioned earlier; I am enjoying a remarkable decrease in my IBS symptoms over the past few weeks; I have a roof over my head and food in my cupboard; and while money is tight, it isn’t unmanageable.

Why is it then, that sometimes things rationally can be okay, but you still feel like you have a deep sucking hole of nothingness in your chest?

Depression – it’s an insidious bastard isn’t it.

I have flirted with episodes of the black dog over the years, and have an in-depth knowledge of it in its most chronic and ongoing form (as well as its best friend anxiety), thanks to the struggles of my then-husband/now-best friend.

I guess, it is easier to see and admit these things in others than it is in yourself sometimes.

Over the last few weeks, I have had it suggested a few times by different friends that maybe I should think about talking to someone about what I am going through. I have thought about it, but then pushed on, as I have felt better and decided that I am fine.

But I think if nothing else, last night was the push I needed to realise that even though sometimes I feel okay and it is only sometimes that I am not, the times where I really really am not are reason enough to reach out. To talk to someone. I might only need a few appointments to change my thinking and go back to my usual approach of ‘dancing in the rain, rather than waiting for the storm to pass.’ I might need more. Either way, I am going to make the step, because I don’t want to get to the point where being not okay becomes less than not okay, if you know what I mean.

Why am I sharing this?

Two reasons.

  1. Like everything on this blog, in the hope that if someone who is experiencing this same thing will come across this and feel less alone, and know I am someone they can reach out too to if they need a friendly ear.
  2. Because today I went to the GP for a referral, looked at the huge line and the busy waiting room (I go to one of those bulk bill clinics where they don’t do appointments) and turned around and walked out. This post is to make sure that I keep the promise I made to myself as I turned around, that I will go back. It is to make me accountable.

Love to you all,

Manda x

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