Voila The Tiger Lillies - looking how I feel (pale and weird). Depression is a curious beast - it removes colour from one's life, draining away the essences of things and making them translucent. I think in black and white. The rest is grey. The voices are rather insistent today - telling me I'm worthless and commenting on my actions. It's such a bloody effort to send them away and it doesn't always work anyway. Thoughts that I'd be better off dead pop in from time to time; I don't want to die, I just want it to stop.
The Home Treatment girls came this morning and I narrowly avoided being admitted, I think - I had to promise to be safe at home. I feel safe most of the time, but in the watches of the night when I'm the only person on the planet who's awake, it's trickier. My days stretch endlessly in front of me and I struggle to fill the minutes, let alone the hours. I watch the clock to see if it's time to go to bed - is 17.35 too early??
I pride myself on having quite a good brain, but it's useless at the moment. The very thing that distinguishes me as a person is the thing that is damaged. Consequently, it won't work to think positively - I've always thought that was a ridiculous phrase, because surely if I could, I would? I can't pull myself together, keep my chin up or butch it out - have you noticed how physical all those sayings are? Where's the helpful phrase for my mind? Should I gather my neurons? Cultivate my glia? High five my hippocampus? Doesn't work, does it. So I'm back to pulling my socks up and aiming for the home strait. But it's a long way home...............
I spent 16 years in the RAF defending the Free World , then got bunged out unceremoniously for being bipolar. I and was subsequently diagnosed with PTSD. Funny old world, isn't it?