Archive | February, 2012

Sleep? No Chance!

17 Feb

I feel like throwing a party, the pain has finally lifted and my heart doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. I could complain about not being able to sleep or how my life is still littered with worry mines, but I won’t. I’ll just let you in on a little secret and let you know what I like to do when sleep is too far out of reach. I limp around Youtube digging up videos that bring a smile to my face. Comedy is something everybody needs in their life. It can shine a torch through your soul when you’re drowning and help you cling onto what life you have, however unsteady and unwell you feel. You should always have a little place in life for a large helping of comedy gold.

 

The first time I saw this video I couldn’t believe how true the words were. I was also rather tickled by the teasing portrayal of the Americans, but you do have to admit it’s funny and brings a broad smile to your face. There is a lot wrong with this world when you think about it and I think kickin’ ass is probably just what we all need to do.

 

All I think about when I watch this Monty Python sketch is the following: The London Olympics 2012. The London Olympics 2012. The London Olympics 2012. The London Olympics 2012.

I have to say I’m quite content not being able to sleep when I have comedy gold like this at my fingertips.

My Father

12 Feb

Dear Diary,

While I’m on a writing roll this evening, I might as well continue to air my deepest, darkest thoughts in the hope it will make me feel better. There’s nobody in my life I feel like I can talk to about these things, so right now you will have to feel the full brunt of my thoughts and I don’t even feel the slightest bit apologetic about that.

I don’t know where to start when I try to describe my dad. He has so many sides to him and he’s adept at keeping certain ones close to his chest. He can be loving, helpful and caring, but he also favours sticking his head in the sand and keeping his distance when things become too difficult for him.

Financial support is one thing, but when it comes to the emotional kind I’m left high and dry. We can sit down and chat about The Beatles or what we think about the latest movie releases and I enjoy that type of chatter, yet when it comes time to discuss anything else about my life or his there’s silence. Silence at both ends, followed by a brick wall shooting up from the ground and driving us further apart.

Somewhere along the rocky path of life we’ve lost the skill to interact at any level above that of two friends meeting for a causal chat in a pub. I feel like I don’t want him to know any of the thoughts I lay out on these pages because they’re personal, they’re mine and I would rather share them with the rest of the world then him. He doesn’t understand or perhaps he does, but struggles to put his feelings into words?

I don’t want him to sigh heavily and shake his head at me when I say things close to my heart. I just want him to be my dad and tell me everything will be fine and promise me I’ll get through this storm.

Maybe I expect too much from my parents? I’m old enough now to weather my own depression and fight until I’m crowned champion of the world.

But a little support wouldn’t go a miss. Really, it wouldn’t.

– Tasha

My Mother

12 Feb

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I wonder if I scare my mum. When I break down into tears and sob my heart out, she doesn’t hug me, she doesn’t ask me what’s wrong, she stands there and acts like I don’t even exist. She won’t even look at me and I can almost hear the cogs turning in her head as she tries to find something to distract herself from me: The biggest disappointment of her life.

I often wonder what I did to her in the past that was so terrible. Was it because I was firmly planted on my dad’s side when the arguments used to erupt in the family home? Perhaps all the years I spent at school bored and uninterested, forever in trouble and always skipping classes pushed her a little too far away from me? It can’t be easy giving birth to a child and having such high hopes for her, only for the girl to never reach her true potential or even make a mark on the world.

At times I’m left wondering if there is any point at all in me trying to forge a relationship with her. We fight like crazy and I feel like I’ve ruined her life. I’ve heard the line,” We’re too alike,” being uttered before but if I ever had a daughter who was hurting as badly as I am right now, nothing would stop me from comforting her until the pain started to lift and the sun began to shine.

I don’t need words or the moments when I overhear her saying she doesn’t want to spend time with me because I don’t help myself and I’m too negative. Tonight my heart broke for the very last time and the conclusion I reached is I’m in this fight alone. My family are background characters and I’m the main act. I might be an emotional wreck sometimes, there can be snatches of pain so deep I feel like I’m being buried alive, but I’ll conquer this fucking illness and then I will sit down and think about this properly.

The possibility my mum is frightened by what I might end up doing to myself haunts my very thoughts. If that’s the reason she’s pushing me further anyway, then I can understand it. But it still hurts having to fight this all alone. It hurts and I’m so tired of it.

– Tasha

Family

11 Feb

Dear Diary,

I’ve never felt so alone in all my life. I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of the earth and if I take another step I will surely fall into oblivion. The sharp edges of life are fading, I’m losing the will to fight and nobody is here to hold my hand and tell me everything will be fine. Even my own family have abandoned me and I don’t have the strength to hate them for it.

“You have nothing to be depressed about!”

That line was just fed to me and I’m so sick of having to defend myself against my own family’s scorn and refusal to understand what I’m going through.  Depression is an illness and one I never asked for. It steals all the happiness away from me, my confidence, my smile, my stubbornness…  My everything and I only want somebody to hold me when I cry.

I know my family is dysfunctional but why does that mean they can’t be supportive? Why can’t they understand what I’m going through and how much I’m hurting?

On Thursday evening I started to wash up and I was listening to the radio. At one point I ended up in a crumpled mess on the floor and sobbed until I felt a wave of numbness crash over me. Detached is the point I’m aiming for because I’m running away from depressed. It just seems that I’m running around in circles at the moment.

Everything is an absolute nightmare right now.

– Tasha

The Sun Has Stopped Shining

3 Feb

Dear Diary,

I feel so utterly lost and my souring mood has been beaten about the head until it  promised to be forever and a day miserable with a sprinkle of ‘I hate my life’ tears. I suppose I’m always pretty unhappy and I can live with that, but when I feel this depressed it hurts so badly I want to run away from myself. I’m struggling to describe even a small percentage of the pain I feel and it’s taken me at least half an hour to write anything.

I cried yesterday, I cried five times. Tears leaked in the Job Centre, while I was walking to the bus stop, as I was sitting on the bus, when I arrived at my volunteer job at Mind and when I returned home. The tears decorated my face all day Thursday and I haven’t had time to feel all that foolish or embarrassed about it yet.

Bottling up my feelings and pretending everything is okay is detrimental to my health and the longer the problems with the Job Centre continue, I know I’m not going to feel any better. I haven’t been sleeping well since I received the serious looking letter from them and even trying to find out the simplest facts from their call centre is a mission best left to Sherlock Holmes. But after living with Depression for years I know a good sleeping schedule is important to keep the black dog at bay, but how can I close my eyes at night and sleep when I know my life is pain wrapped in a blanket of thorns?

When I take a step in the right direction and there’s a stirring of happiness which is a feeling I’d long since forgotten, I feel a little braver and think maybe I can achieve all of my goals, become someone, the person I’d love to be, but then the cold light of day hits me square in the eyes and I realise the world is a cold, dark, unforgiving place where the average person is ripped to shreds.

I’ve still been searching for a job and even applied for one at a hotel/bar in my local town centre. But between you and me, I don’t hold out much hope for a golden reply of, “Yes! Come in for an interview right away. You’re just what we’ve been looking for!” Yet there is a small pocket of hope deep inside me wishing I’d never ever have to darken the doorstep of the Job Centre again. Do perfect jobs even exist and where can I find them? More importantly how can I become confident?

Do you know why I first wanted to volunteer for a mental health charity? I knew I needed to improve my confidence because I struggle to believe in myself. Not only is Mind an excellent place for people weighed down by the world and their mental health issues, but when I go there  everybody is so lovely. I stand there and feel like I completely lack any type of social skills, I’m nervous, I beat myself up and I don’t even understand the concept of small talk. Even when I’m asked to help write a press release I can’t help but type away and then hit the back button until I’ve deleted every single word. I belittle myself, I can’t stand to be given a compliment because I despise who I am and I don’t believe I have anything of value to contribute to the team.

I want to be confident, but I don’t want to become an absolute nightmare. I want to be happy, but I don’t want to skip down the street beaming at everybody I meet.  I want to beat this depression into submission, but most importantly I want to use everything I’ve learned about myself to create something positive, long lasting and if happiness decides to make a reappearance again, I’d be eternally grateful.

To be completely honest with you, I don’t know what to do or where to start. When life begins to close in on me, should I run away or stand my ground with a trembling bottom lip and a stubborn, tearstained gaze? I guess the time has come to make that decision because I’m the master of my own destiny and despite being blown of course by the most ferocious of storms, I’m still standing, if not with a little trouble and a broken heart.

– Raindrops