Do you ever get that? You think you are ok, not perfect but ok and then …bang…the technicolour vice like grip of depression just envelopes and overwhelms, captures you unawares? I fumbled in my pocket and found the handkerchief this morning as I thought last night was a kind of dream state, unreal but real, memories you know as real but blurry and fuzzy at the edges. The handkerchief is symbolic of my spectacular breakdown. In my originally dazed but now crystal clear state of mind I can offer up explanations and analyse that experience with scalpel precision. A mixture of alcohol, lack of food, tired, having had no proper break during the whole year combined with the past couple of weeks being hectic, frenetic, pressure campaigning/politicking some brilliant experiences some very very crappy ones while bubbling below was the spectre of depression ready to be unleashed. I knew it was there, I had warnings but kept trying to push it at the back and ignore it. And it emerged full throttle after getting drunk. Funny thing is I steer clear of booze when I am aware of the levels of depression/anxiety increasing as that just adds to misery/hopelessness and booze being a depressive anyhow. But I threw caution to the wind and suffered the stupid consequences.
It is times like this I feel exposed, and that all my protectors and barriers collapse, and I become even desperate to be invisible and unnoticeable. To crawl back into my shell and hide myself from the prying world. I saw myself spiralling downwards to the abyss, feeling crap, useless, stupid while thinking the unthinkable that my life meant nothing…I felt I was being drawn back to my childhood experiencing the putdowns from my parents about just how lazy and stupid I was, constant unrelenting criticism. You say that enough to a kid you brainwash them into believing it. Shattered confidence and low expectations with the added bonus that you believe your life means very little or of any real significance. And believing that everyone thinks that about me. For those couple of hours things just started to push me to the edge. I vaguely recall sobbing my eyes out, thankfully London has so much anonymity that nobody notices or wants to notice. But the strange thing was once I got on the train I sat down and shut my eyes but still, must have, looked a mess that I felt a tap on my arm and opened my eyes to see a woman passing me a hankie. I blubbed an incoherent thank-you. When she left the train she squeezed my shoulder and said hoped that I was ok.
So why am I writing this, probably because everything was spinning around inside in my head while trying to get a grip on what was happening. And sometimes writing even on a blog can be therapeutic. I know sometimes we all keep personal and painful stuff to ourselves but with me it is making sense of it as sometimes I don’t understand things. Maybe it is too personal, narcissistic and selfish writing this, maybe people will think less of me for not coping with life’s unpleasant surrpises. I mean, who wants to know this and apologies for anyone reading this but things just seemed so blighted and shattered last night, in the old light of morning (added hangover) things still seemed fragile but less overwhelming. It is also about coming to terms with depression, the tell-tale signs (especially at Xmas time as I always get this awful sense of loss), coping strategies and seeing myself as a valuable person in this world and having the confidence to believe that.
New Year’s Resolution: it is time to seek therapy….again..
