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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...

Today I found myself laughing and joking at my current situation; a relationship breakdown with a custody issue thrown in. Who in their right mind would be smiling about that?  Why am I not crying and feeling sad?  Am I putting a brave face on it or is this me coping? I just don't know. Is this the result of being on medication? Will it hit me one day like a sledgehammer and I won't want to creep out of my pit? Or am I just getting on with it. Putting my daughter first and making light of a situation that has been unsuspectingly thrust upon me? Who am I? Am I this strong woman?  Am I this bubbly person that everyone sees? Or am I papering over cracks and painting on a smile? It scares me that I really don't know.

I think a lot about my illness is subconscious and how things play on my mind without me realising. It isn't until I stop to wonder why I am feeling especially low or sad inside that I look for a reason. Oftentimes there is a lot of searching to be done and sometimes no answers are found. Without my realising this time of year has been creeping up on me. August and September are probably my worst two months of the year which is ironic as it is also birthday season and the beginning of autumn (my favourite time of year).  August is the reminder of that decision I made three years ago that will forever be tinged with regret. September now holds a new meaning. A time to realise that I am not in control and that sometimes life takes unexpected turns. It was a Thursday last year, but as with all dates, this year it falls on a Friday. A day to remember I am fallible and can be broken. A time to remember I could not be here. So should be thankful. A time to grieve for my loss, my ...

Those internal incessant voices Are your repeated words They are the horrible things said That I should never have heard They repeat themselves overtly And burn within my heart Until I can only hear them And they slowly tear me apart I can be on my own completely Or smiling within a crowd The sun could be shining brightly Or I could be under a storm cloud They start to strangle me And cloud my busy mind Until I can't but help to wish My mind be free my body left behind

When it's a jar.  We all know that old riddle. And we all know that the door remains a door. So why is it that some think that rape is not rape if it's by someone you know or if it was non-violent?  And by some I include me, I didn't report my rape because I knew the man that did it. I worked with him and I was young and naive. I trusted when my colleagues told me that it was better all round to let it go (before the days of Frozen) and to just not go to meetings he would attend. So that is what I did. Looking back now, and with how times have changed, I see now my mistake. I said no, I pleaded, he didn't listen he just buried my head in the pillow and did what he felt he had a right to do. I was 21. He was a married man with children. I was trapped by him for years but finally I allowed myself to be free.  There are people out there that believe that abuse is not abuse without bruises.   Maybe once I too was the same. I was controlled in my marriage. Made ...

This too is a previously unpublished post: Do you know that when they question you about physical violence from a partner (domestic abuse) they ask one question that surprised me: Does the person show violence towards your pets? That really got me thinking about what someone thinks of you if they are happy to abuse you.  Abuse takes many forms, it can be physical (obvious signs like bruises or hidden bruises), it can be mental (constant threats, put downs, arguments). In fact there are so many forms it is hard to work out when you are in an abusive relationship.  Everyone argues and has heated debates. Not everyone lives with someone that makes them feel like they have nowhere to go or that they deserve what is thrust upon them.  Oftentimes the person being abused doesn't even realise. It is a long process and you believe that what you have is love. You believe you can fix them. You can heal whatever broke them just by loving them.  Chances are ...

In Paul's first letter to the Corinthians he spoke of love and nowadays we hear those words read at weddings. My experience of love has shown me a different way.  It isn't that I "have not love" it is just that I have no experience of the love that he speaks about. Love isn't patient it rings and rings, if there is no answer it rings again.  Love is 16 missed calls Love isn't   kind it is cruel and full of harsh words.  Spite and venom. Lo ve  does envy.  It is a green eyed monster.  It is jealous of all that it once held dear.  And yet some times it does not envy and it seems to not even care. It does boast; love is full of selfish pride. Love is arrogant, pretentious, conceited, pompous, insolent. Love is rude. Ill-tempered.  Short-fused. Love has only one way and it isn't mine Love is irritable. And worst of all, love is resentful, and full of regrets. Love does rejoice at wrongdoing, it cares little...

The Carpenters said it was Rainy Days and Mondays but hey... A very good friend of mine recently asked what do I do on my black days and it got me thinking. What do I do on days when I just want to curl up under my duvet and never wake up? On days when I want to cry myself to sleep and hide from the world. When I want to creep into my lair and just stay there? Sometimes I do just that. However that is a luxury, how many of us are able to just forget about the world? Sometimes we go off the rails and we do just that we get so caught up in our own misery we forget the people around us. However I am talking of the dark days when you are still trudging along pretending to yourself and the world that it's all ok.  So what do we do? What do I do? I try to step outside my bubble. To realise that there is a me and a world and we are able to live symbiotically.  I think the key is remembering you. Reminding yourself that you are a person in your own right. Not ju...

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...

This blog has been on and off for two years and mainly in the off position whilst I struggle with my mental health. Below is a short poem I wrote in May 2014: I want to go to sleep and not wake up Of what's on offer I have had enough I don't want to pass away nor give up the fight I am not losing the battle I'm finding the light There seems very little to keep me here Walk towards the light without any fear I won't be missed: at least not for long  You can laugh and smile; life does go on  Wear bright colours don't wear black Always look forward; don't look back I will be waiting and watching over you Always remember that I loved you.  Recent events and my continuing counselling often get me thinking about suicide. One question I am asked often is if I have suicidal thoughts. The sad fact about mental health is that, yes, I do. More often than I care to think about. I wonder how easy it would be to crash my car or step in from of t...

I wrote this two years ago and never published it as I didn't feel I should: Is a bully that leaves a mark on someone's body worse than a bully that leaves a mark on someone's conscious - on their soul? I am inclined to think yes - maybe that is why I allow myself to stay in relationships with a bully.  Whereas I know the world wouldn't agree. A bully is a bully: be it mental or physical.  You can make excuses for their behaviour - something at which I am most practiced - but it doesn't make it right.  So why can I not admit that I am being bullied? I think everyone was bullied as a kid - I just chose to befriend the bully and "get him on side" and I think I have been doing the same ever since if I am honest.  What makes someone think they are allowed to pick fault with another person? We are all allowed opinions but you are not meant to enforce them on another. You may have insecurities but the way to beat them is not to put ano...

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. 

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...

Pain tugs at my body Reminding me of what I lost It punches me in the gut And makes me double over I wince in agony But in the back of my mind I know it is my body Telling me I am healing  It tells me, every time, That things are changing That they haven't taken it all And my body heals My mind, on the other hand, Is still quiet It's is holding back So far from ready So far from being able to fight It's a long road And one of incomplete recovery A move to a new way A different path

I am not asking you to do anything I am not nagging all the time I am just sitting writing poetry Looking for words that rhyme I want you to understand me I need to feel your love around I need you to know we are both lost And that we both can be found All I am doing is whispering quietly  Hoping that you will hear That you will finally understand  That there is nothing left to fear You lock yourself away completely You have another drink You tie yourself up in knots And all you do is think and think You do not listen when I speak At least you do not hear You are running away internally And making our future unclear. Please stop overthinking Worrying what you may lose  Look at what you have, be brave;  And us, I ask, please choose

Some things just take over. There I was feeling like life was on the up and that maybe I was on the right side of my dark journey. Walking towards the brighter side of life. Then kaboom. The words "no you won't be returning to work you won't be leaving the hospital" hit me full on in the face. That phrase made the whole awful situation more real. I visit A&E on occasion (riding breaks and poling dislocations) but never have I had to stay. Even after Eliza I managed less than ten hours in hospital. I couldn't believe this was happening.  I felt scared and bereft, alone, sad.  I felt like I was being punished. And then I saw the consultant.  Told off for not going in sooner he told me that by ignoring the pain it was highly likely he would have been resuscitating me if I had left it any longer.  Wow. I realised then that I was in trouble and that a high pain threshold is not always a good thing. Anyhow I had the surgery that night. I had my ...

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?

My medication has turned my black dog to a small bundle of fluff. He is controlled, held back as it were, and lives in my stomach. I know he is there and at times I can feel him straining at the leash to get out. It scares me. I guess I could liken him to a Gremlin. Looks cute and harmless but add water and he becomes a menace and ruins everything. The medication, on the whole, keeps the water at bay.  Sometimes though I can feel that little tike getting ready for a swim and I don't know how to stop him. He gets into my thoughts and my actions. He controls my subconscious. I want to be happy but he wants to play.  I'd say I want him to drown but that would only make matters worse!  I just hope that one day he finds a new home. Maybe not with someone else but somewhere away from me

I  think most people have heard depression expressed as a black dog. Hopefully some of you have also seen the video entitled I Had a Black dog ( http://youtu.be/XiCrniLQGYc  ). If you haven't please do have a watch as it is great.  For Chris' birthday this year I bought him a book: Living With A Black Dog.  Often he says that people don't know what it is like to live with someone with depression and that only through my blog a Has he learnt more about my illness.  Well they have made the book into a short video and I highly recommend a watch ( http://www.upworthy.com/let-these-drawings-with-a-dog-show-you-what-you-should-do-when-you-approach-someone-with-depression?c=ufb1 ) Sorry if this is a bit of a cop out blog but I would like to start raising awareness of other blogs and information out there. In the hope of spreading the word that depression is REAL.

The sense of failure can be on different scales. Big or small the feeling never goes away and is always there just nudging us constantly in the head. It might as well be shouting "loser" at the top of it's voice. Today I feel like I have failed as I haven't managed to find anyone to help with the ice bucket challenge, I was meant to have a pamper session but it was cancelled AND I have eaten bread despite saying I wouldn't as I desperately need to lose weight.  However it can often be on a greater scale. I can look at my life and see what I have achieved and then see what I have done with it. I have a degree and a Masters and now earn a wage that doesn't pay my bills. I don't own a home (well I am on the mortgage to my marital home but that is a battle I seem incapable of winning).  I think I will stop there as this isn't a pity rant. It's just a blog post! The feeling of failure is overwhelming sometimes. It makes me bow my head in...