Depression, as you are probably aware by now, is awful. Dark, lonely, sad, desperate, awful.
But.
But it is also possibly the best thing that has happened to me. With the help of my fantastic therapist, and 50mg per day of SSRIs, I have learned more about myself in the past 8 months than I had since I left university. Here are some things that having depression has taught me:
1. Better understanding myself has meant I am able to understand others better. By being kind to myself, accepting who I am and how I am, it's so much easier to empathise with other people, to understand who they are and how they are.
2. Dreams are important and worth paying attention to. I take the time to think about my dreams now, and I am better able to analyse what they mean. Not with the use of a generic 'what does my dream mean?' app, because our dreams mean different things to each of us. They are entirely individual and reflect our specific state of mind and experience of the world. It turns out that for me, for example, my subconscious identifies aspects of my self as cats.
3. Other people are mirrors of ourselves. We like or dislike people because we see elements of ourselves that can or cannot accept in them.
4. I am all things. I cannot be good without also being bad, kind without being mean, selfless without being selfish. I am not complete without both light and dark, yin and yang. It is the choices I make that strengthen certain characteristics.
5. The little victories matter. It's the little ones that make the big ones possible.
6. Writing helps. Writing is a selfish act, one we depressives use to escape the burning catastrophe of our minds. Some of us write non-fiction, others creatively. But each word is written against the backdrop of depression and coloured with its echoes.
7. There is a way up. There is always someone who will help to lift the weight, even on the worst days. I may need meds and therapy, but I did not drink and I did not take drugs to blunt the pain. I felt it, I lived through it, I am facing it, and I am stronger.
Sunday 15 March 2015
Wednesday 11 March 2015
The great charity cake extravaganza
There are very few people here in the west who readily turn down cake. Such people are often treated with either suspicion (if they say they simply don't like it) or sympathy (if they're on a diet). I don't believe in diets, but I do believe - heartily - in cake.
To this end, I spent last weekend baking a selection of treats for my colleagues and concocting 10 reasons why they should ignore any form of self deprivation in order to support a good cause. Consequently the large stack of cakes and biscuits I left in the orange room (a lunch room painted bright orange where cake is habitually left) disappeared fairly rapidly over the next couple of days.
Unfortunately I forgot to take pictures when the tins we full, however I did get some snaps before the contents vanished completely. Here's what I baked:
To this end, I spent last weekend baking a selection of treats for my colleagues and concocting 10 reasons why they should ignore any form of self deprivation in order to support a good cause. Consequently the large stack of cakes and biscuits I left in the orange room (a lunch room painted bright orange where cake is habitually left) disappeared fairly rapidly over the next couple of days.
Unfortunately I forgot to take pictures when the tins we full, however I did get some snaps before the contents vanished completely. Here's what I baked:
Lemon & poppy seed cakes. These went fastest of all.
Gingerbread men with varying chocolate trouser patterns. I even gave one Y-fronts.
Coconut and choc chip cakes made with a little coconut oil for extra moistness.
Shortbread topped with cream (whipped by my own fair hand) and a raspberry.
Being totally clever and resourceful, I also supplied plastic bags so people could take goodies home to their families. I believe I was responsible for more than one hyperactive child on Monday night.
Kind-hearted bunch that they are, my colleagues ate their way to £35.69 (bear in mind we're a pretty small team), bringing my overall total to £350. Huzzah!!
Sunday 8 March 2015
The value of tears and why meditation is great
How I learnt the value of crying
Not so long ago I thought that crying was a sign of weakness. I thought that because people saw me as a strong person, it meant tears were unacceptable, even behind closed doors. They make us vulnerable, they make us ugly.
During the summer I cried almost every day. I hated it. Crying solved nothing and it gave me a headache, but I couldn't make it stop. Tiny things would set me off: TV shows, light-hearted digs from colleagues that I'd normally take in my stride, people being nice to me, taking an extra 15 minutes to get home because of a diversion. Sometimes at work I'd hide in the toilets and cry several times a day, other times I'd manage to hold the mask in place till 5pm, at which point I'd get in my car and let go, and the tears would fall until long after I was home.
During my first few therapy sessions I cried from start to finish. I'd leave the building with red, puffy eyes feeling even more confused and overwhelmed than when I went in. But gradually, as the meds stabilised me and the therapy progressed, I began to appreciate the tears. I cried in a way I had not cried for ages - as a release. This kind follows a stressful event, unaccompanied by the self-blame and guilt I had grown used to experiencing. It's shorter, and the aftermath is a sense of relief rather than utter exhaustion.
Last Thursday I had a melt-down day, the type of day I had every day last summer. I took things to heart, became anxious, stressed and paranoid. I hid in the toilets and I cried. But instead of hating myself for being a feeble excuse for a human being, I was able to roll with it, to rationalise it and recognise that tomorrow would be better. And, of course, it was. Finally I can accept a few tears here and there when I need them.
Why meditation is great
After a long time getting passed off as something only hippies and Buddhist monks do, meditation is finally getting a bit more of the praise it deserves. As someone who struggles with their mental health, I think it's brilliant - not only because it is a chance to wind down and clear my mind for a few minutes, but also because it's a good way to reinforce the new ways of thinking and of looking at life that I am learning. It's what my therapist would call time to 'nurture' myself.
I don't go in for humming, or chanting, it's not my thing. But there are some really effective techniques that enable you to calm your mind and focus on the here and now instead of worrying about the ironing, or that report that's due in the morning. One of my preferred exercises is to focus on my breath. I sit cross-legged, hands in my lap or resting on my knees and close my eyes. With every breath in I feel my body expanding like a balloon, and with every breath out I imagine my muscles relaxing. I start with my neck and work all the way down to my legs, feeling the tension fall away from each part of my body as I focus on it.
Recently my trainer recommended a book called Synchrodestiny to me. Now there are plenty of medics and scientists out there who turn their noses up at Deepak Chopra and dismiss his books - it's true, some of his ideas are a bit random to say the least - but I'll say this for Synochrodestiny, it made a rough patch a little less bad. He sets out 7 'sutras', one for each day of the week that focuses on a different concept. These reinforce the positive mindset that my therapist has been encouraging me to adopt, enabling me to imagine myself as part of something bigger as opposed to totally isolated, to see aspects of myself in others, which helps me connect and empathise with them, to remind myself that I am a worthwhile person with something to offer the world.
I have not meditated for 2 weeks due to other commitments, and I have noticed it. My self esteem has ebbed a little, my sense of connection has subsided, I doubt myself more. Recent events have left me very tired, but the moment I regain some energy I plan to begin again.
Maybe you're inclined to think I'm talking rubbish, but if you get some time alone, I'd encourage you to give it a try. You may be surprised at how good it feels.
Not so long ago I thought that crying was a sign of weakness. I thought that because people saw me as a strong person, it meant tears were unacceptable, even behind closed doors. They make us vulnerable, they make us ugly.
During the summer I cried almost every day. I hated it. Crying solved nothing and it gave me a headache, but I couldn't make it stop. Tiny things would set me off: TV shows, light-hearted digs from colleagues that I'd normally take in my stride, people being nice to me, taking an extra 15 minutes to get home because of a diversion. Sometimes at work I'd hide in the toilets and cry several times a day, other times I'd manage to hold the mask in place till 5pm, at which point I'd get in my car and let go, and the tears would fall until long after I was home.
During my first few therapy sessions I cried from start to finish. I'd leave the building with red, puffy eyes feeling even more confused and overwhelmed than when I went in. But gradually, as the meds stabilised me and the therapy progressed, I began to appreciate the tears. I cried in a way I had not cried for ages - as a release. This kind follows a stressful event, unaccompanied by the self-blame and guilt I had grown used to experiencing. It's shorter, and the aftermath is a sense of relief rather than utter exhaustion.
Last Thursday I had a melt-down day, the type of day I had every day last summer. I took things to heart, became anxious, stressed and paranoid. I hid in the toilets and I cried. But instead of hating myself for being a feeble excuse for a human being, I was able to roll with it, to rationalise it and recognise that tomorrow would be better. And, of course, it was. Finally I can accept a few tears here and there when I need them.
Why meditation is great
After a long time getting passed off as something only hippies and Buddhist monks do, meditation is finally getting a bit more of the praise it deserves. As someone who struggles with their mental health, I think it's brilliant - not only because it is a chance to wind down and clear my mind for a few minutes, but also because it's a good way to reinforce the new ways of thinking and of looking at life that I am learning. It's what my therapist would call time to 'nurture' myself.
I don't go in for humming, or chanting, it's not my thing. But there are some really effective techniques that enable you to calm your mind and focus on the here and now instead of worrying about the ironing, or that report that's due in the morning. One of my preferred exercises is to focus on my breath. I sit cross-legged, hands in my lap or resting on my knees and close my eyes. With every breath in I feel my body expanding like a balloon, and with every breath out I imagine my muscles relaxing. I start with my neck and work all the way down to my legs, feeling the tension fall away from each part of my body as I focus on it.
Recently my trainer recommended a book called Synchrodestiny to me. Now there are plenty of medics and scientists out there who turn their noses up at Deepak Chopra and dismiss his books - it's true, some of his ideas are a bit random to say the least - but I'll say this for Synochrodestiny, it made a rough patch a little less bad. He sets out 7 'sutras', one for each day of the week that focuses on a different concept. These reinforce the positive mindset that my therapist has been encouraging me to adopt, enabling me to imagine myself as part of something bigger as opposed to totally isolated, to see aspects of myself in others, which helps me connect and empathise with them, to remind myself that I am a worthwhile person with something to offer the world.I have not meditated for 2 weeks due to other commitments, and I have noticed it. My self esteem has ebbed a little, my sense of connection has subsided, I doubt myself more. Recent events have left me very tired, but the moment I regain some energy I plan to begin again.
Maybe you're inclined to think I'm talking rubbish, but if you get some time alone, I'd encourage you to give it a try. You may be surprised at how good it feels.
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