100 Sad Days: Day 15; My Blog: Your Comments

I wanted to write about why I am continuing my blog. Yes it is hard and I am writing more blogs than I am publishing. Maybe because I am worried about how they will be accepted or viewed. About the comments I may receive for my complete honesty.

Anyhow the reason I continue is for the fantastic comments I have received along the way. The little messages to tell me that people I know suffer or have suffered with this illness. And that what I am doing is helping people (including those living with sufferers of this mental illness).

I wanted to share with you some of the comments that keep me posting.... (I hope the authors don't mind; no names mentioned:

"I have just read your blog for first time. I think you are so brave and I am truly inspired by your inner strength and honesty at how you deal with the blackness of depression. I struggle most days too. It's like treading water..... You have really helped me today though - thank you xxx"

"I just wanted to let you know how great your blog is. For me it is very brave to share your thoughts on depression but I think it will educate a lot of people, well I hope that it does anyway. I just wanted to share with you that what you are doing is positive for you to be able to write down your feelings and also for others who read the blog".

"I just want to say a very heartfelt thank you for posting your blog. you have a bravery I wish I had. The things you say...I wish I could say as it is what I am feeling most days"....

"I'm loving your blog hun. So just a quick note to say 'well done' and a thank you... today you have been my wings xx"

Thank you everybody. I hope you stay with me x

Comments

Blue Monday 2024 - Memories of Dad

You’ve heard of sleeping policeman. Well my dad was the cooking policeman. Growing up I was so proud to have a dad that was a policeman. His job always sounded so cool and exciting. Then there was his ability to follow a recipe (the same one time and time again). He made an amazing macaroni cheese (the best), shepherds pie, lamb curry (from scratch) and oh my goodness the Devil’s food cake - four storeys of ultimate chocolate cake! I loved to be able to talk about the fact that he was born in India. That he was brought up in South Africa. That he had a three-legged cheetah as a pet. Stories of sat on a wall eating mangoes with monkeys Dad was also a knitter - having learnt from his grandma. And I can remember our loop cardigans and the waistcoats he knitted. Duchess, our dog, brought home after night shift. The fish tanks and trips to all of those aquatic centres Being a South African, he loved his tech. He always had the newest gadget (oh that satellite dish) and a cool car

January’s got the Blues

Seven years ago I watched as January allowed pancreatic cancer to steal my mum’s zest for life. Over the course of the first three months of 2017 we lost my mum slowly. And painfully. Gracefully, and peacefully. Cancer, COPD, mental illness and dementia have gradually, over a much longer period, eroded the man that my dad once was. In some cases he has become a happier, more fun-loving grandad than he was a father, but in another he is just the husk of the man that could fix ANYTHING. A technology-loving, recipe-following, policeman. January 2024 bears witness to another parent’s dwindling life as I see the fear in his eyes. Yet I am pleased that he still remembers who I am, my name. I hate the sadness and pain in everyone’s face, the tears in their eyes. I hate, even more, the pleading for help, knowing he would rather be, and should be allowed to be, at peace. New year. New grief. Constant reminder that the world keeps turning and time keeps on ticking.

LuluSLR: What depression means to me (first published in July 2014)

As a teenager we lived next door to a lady with depression. She and her husband were lovely people, they would always stop and chat, but sometimes she would retreat and we wouldn't see her for months. Instead we would only see Ernie on his daily walk. Then suddenly she would be back beside him with long hair (Gladys always had short hair). I didn't really take much notice but can remember my mum commenting about Gladys and her long hair meaning she had been depressed. Now, looking back, I can see how they were connected. How Glady wouldn't want to leave the house and thus her hair would grow and she would look unkempt when she did reappear. I get it now. Growing up depression wasn't really something I knew much about. I know members of my family have suffered with it but it just kind of passed me by. After all we all have sad days or short periods. Well that's what I thought. Just get on with it. Keep smiling. However my short periods would get longer

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