Skip to main content

100 Sad Days: Day 25; it's all about me!

I am not one that goes in for self help.  Lets be honest I don't really go in for any kind of help.  Reaching out to my doctor last Christmas was a massive step for me.  I have always thought I can do anything on my own and do not need other people's help.  I now know this is not the case and that I shouldn't be embarrassed to ask.

Anyhow I have taken to reading about depression, both online and books.  In fact I recently bought a book for me (Ruby Wax) and one for Chris (Living with the Black Dog) as I felt it was time to start to understand this illness a little more.  However I don't seem to get a chance to read it as there is always something going on.  In fact I rarely read books anymore and that used to be something I loved.  The escapism.  

It then got me thinking about other things that I have let slip or in fact let go of completely.  Things that used to keep me grounded, happy, normal.

I stopped horse riding when I was pregnant.  Since having Eliza I don't read.  At some point I stopped my poetry and photography.  And then I seemed to give up music too.  The only hobby I still have is pole and that's due to the friendship that it brings with it.

Anyhow I realised how I have lost things that make me me.  So I decided to take a week off and be me. Today I went riding and felt the love of this sport return instantaneously.  I am hurting already but it was worth it.  I must start back.

I came home and had a bath.  I was overwhelmed by the silence.  There is never quiet in my house.  Well maybe at night when I am sleeping but I am not conscious enough to enjoy it.  I actually relaxed in the bath and was able to wash my hair without interruption!  Who knew what a treat that could be!

I mooches around the market on my own, grabbed a coffee, all without time limits and other constraints.  Who knows I may even open that book later.....

Take away the stress and bring back some of the old me.  Even if only temporarily.  In contrast to yesterday; today has been a good day.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

London Calling

I am no longer based "in town" and I never thought I'd miss it. Yet every Wednesday when I am London bound I find myself looking forward to what I will be greeted by. It's not the hustle and bustle - the fast moving commuters and slow shuffling tourists. It's not the shops and bargains abound. It's the buildings, the Underground, the knowing smile you may get from a fellow passenger, or the sarcastic comment of a Tube driver. I love London and its diversity. I love that you can walk just a short distance and be greeted by a whole new world. I love that you can randomly bump into an old friend you haven't seen for years. Making our big world smaller every day. I love St Paul's how proud it stands in the heart of the City. The fact it has survived wars and still attracts throngs of people to it everyday. I love the pomp and circumstance of the City and its Idiosyncrasies. I love that the museums are free and that you can meander around beautifu...

100 Sad Days; Day 34: Say it Like you Mean it

Elton John was wrong. Sorry is not the hardest word. In fact it is all to easily said and not meant.  For years I thought that flowers were a sad excuse for a sorry. Now I realise that what is worse is the empty shell of a sorry. The echo of an unmeant apology received in hope but ushered in haste.  I cannot count the times I have heard the word. From a forced apology "say you are sorry" to one that is said unkept.  We all say sorry. We bump in to someone and manners tell us to apologise. We drop something and we apologise. Sorry here is lighthearted but still meant. Kids fight or shout and apologise as they are taught to do. Sometimes they mean it sometimes they just say it. They are kids after all.  Adults should know better.  Sorry should mean just that. It isn't an excuse for bad behaviour. It isn't a "make everything better with one word". It should be said with the mouth, the heart and the mind.  If you are sorry then be sor...

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...