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

100 Sad Days: Day 29 La La La

Not all abuse in a relationship is physical. Just like all illnesses are not obvious. Although they are "mental" it doesn't make them any less significant. An Open Letter: Your words are often harsh and I let them float over my head. I know it's not you thinking. It's alcohol, it's tiredness, it's money, it's family, it's drugs, its work, it's whatever excuse I decide to label it with to move on. Sometimes they cut so deep. Putting small cracks in my heart that need love to fill the gaps. When this happens forgiveness takes a little longer. When it is constant the opposite happens and I pull down the shutters. I stop feeling. I stop caring. I am numb. This is when I want to never wake up. And then there are the unforgivable things. The venomous words spat from your mouth. Not in anger. Not in rage. Just in hate and apathy. What do I do with those? Where do I go from there?

I Hate Smoking

Let's be honest: it's a mug's game. My main memories of my Granny are of her with a cigarette in hand, of being sent to the "cabin" to buy her mentholated Dunhill. Add to that the memory of my time with my Dad shared always with a cigarette - one after the other. Of the chorus of coughing in the mornings and of now watching him struggle, with COPD, knowing this is a terminal illness that was brought upon himself. Supposedly my Grandma died of old age (but i reckon it was the cancer that got her first) and despite my Dad giving up smoking over eight years ago the years of damage have taken their toll. I chose a path away from cigarettes and I don't mind telling people how stupid I think they are for smoking - friends, family, strangers. We are all touched by cancer at some point and I recently got the all clear after twelve long years of close attention. I am thankful that it was caught before I needed anything other than day treatment and b...

100 Sad Days; Day 39: Reach Out and Touch Somebody's Hand...

One of the things about depression is the fact that it doesn't matter how bad you are if you know someone is suffering you reach out to them. You don't want then to feel as bad as you so you want them to feel better. You want them to know they are not alone and that you care. I do it all the time and I have realised, since writing this, that many others do the same. It is like a radar. We reach out to help those that are afraid to ask for help themselves. Those we can see are suffering. And like moths to a flickering light we are pulled to those that need us those that have shown bravery and stood up. We draw solace from the fact we are not alone. Strength from being a crook for someone to lean on. Understanding from being someone else's shoulder to cry on, their ear to speak to. Sometimes we say nothing and other times we are the voice of reason. We may not be able to fix ourselves but strive to fix those that bleed, like us, whenever we can. T...

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