100 Sad Days; Day 36: I Feel Sad

Everyone has bad days. Most of us have sad days. We all suffer those can't be bothered days. Maybe it's the weather or, for us women, hormones.

Those on the road less travelled have these feelings daily. We wake up with a heavy depression lying across our brow. It pulls at the bags under our eyes that were brought by a sleepless night. We wake up and haul our sorry arses out of bed. Shower if we can get it together and put on some clothes; not really caring what we are wearing or if we wore the outfit yesterday. Then off we plod to work or on the school run. Coats on, mask on, ready to face the day with a smile.

It's a battle and one we often fail to win until we get home and count the hours until bed time. A bed time that brings with it a fretful sleep.

Yes we all have bad days. Depression isn't just a bad day. It is a way of life.

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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