Whilst trapped in the overwhelming clutches of depression it’s almost impossible to see a way out.
The fear of being judged lacking is too much for many to overcome.
Seeking help is sometimes only possible when you’ve hit rock bottom….and thought you could go no lower.
But then you received a lift key, and gained VIP access to that secret place of abject misery.
Times like this, everything is impossible, just getting out of bed and acknowledging you’re alive is overwhelming.
A kaleidoscope of unwanted thoughts circle continuously round and around in your head.
Nothing absolutely nothing can make it stop.
Until one day……
it could be a barely there, blink and you’ll miss it shadow of a smile.
A short scratchy sound could burst out your mouth, somewhere between a snort and a laugh.
Your step might be a tad lighter, the shuffle of your feet not as loud as yesterday.
Getting out of bed doesn’t take a long as it normally would.
Sleep might come just that little bit earlier.
Living doesn’t seem as scary as it did when you were laying awake last night, it could actually be do able.
I can’t pin point the moment when things shifted for me.
Maybe it was when I decided to embrace my depression rather than look at it as shameful burden.
It could have been when I realised I didn’t know what and when my children had their ‘firsts’.
Perhaps the drugs had finally hit the right spot and were working their magic.
Maybe the people I was finally able to identify with enabled me to unscramble my thoughts.
There’s every chance it was all or none of these, but whatever it was I’m so ridiculously damn grateful.
I feel, in some ways like a child, looking at the world around me with fresh eyes.
I doubt I will ever be 100% able to step away from the clutches of depression, the darkness is still there around the edges, seeping into my thoughts unexpectedly and unwelcomed.
Too much has happened, there’s too many nightmares which became my reality.
But I’m thankful for the journey it’s taken me on, it’s been undoubtedly the worst time of my life, but without hitting those lows I’d never appreciate the highs that are now an almost everyday occurrence.
I saw my gp this week, she asked how I was doing
“Good, I’m doing good. It feels good to be living”
And then I smiled, for the first time in over 4 years she’s been treating me, she saw me smile.
She’s impressed with the progress I’ve made, we even discussed the possibility of reducing my meds in the Spring.
It’s not all glitter and giggles, but the dark days are now in the shadow of the good days, and for now, that knowledge is enough to get me through.