Hi folks, this is what I wrote this morning in response to my illness dogging me lately..
I am struggling. Yesterday I recognised that I was officially down. I am so loath to use the word depressed because it is such a large word - being bandied about for everything and sundry, where as I just need it to describe the fact that my body is now in a mood all of it’s own and my mind must follow.
I wake up and she’s there. Stay in bed she says, nothing is good anymore. I can feel the shoulders of my mind shrug and it it so cold outside so now I have a battle on my hands. But it is early days and the first day of depression has hardly got me beat. Up, up! I whip the arse end of my horse flesh as if I am stuck in a bog and sure to drown if I am not ruthlessly firm. Once up I am an engine; put the kettle on, let the cat out, have a wee, take my tablet, stoke the fire, make the tea.
My guts are acid. I have noticed this for a while now and all I have done is have one vegetable juice. I know my guts and my mind are connected but I am so lazy I would almost rather be sick. I know this pattern. This is like my alcoholism. Drink; feel bad. Drink; feel bad. Drink; feel bad. I know how to fix this one because the folk at AA taught me.
Relinquish control. Have faith. Ask for help.
I am not a bus driver. Was I in control two nights ago when I couldn’t sleep so I put dance music on up loud in my head (which I never listen to) and danced in the dark (which I never do) and then took to painting a picture with my head torch on because overhead lighting really gives me the shits? This nutsy caper is not so bad I thought, if I only I could avoid injuries I reckon I could run all night.
Running at night is kind of special. Without a wide expanse of vision, no cars because everyone’s gone to bed and the music blaring in my ears it’s a bit like being in a float tank
...I imagine. It’s safe even though it’s a bit dangerous.
Imagine you are building a sand castle. You build it half way up the tide mark. When the tide is out you have keep running down to the sea to get water because your sand is drying out; don’t let your castle collapse! Then the tide turns, the water gets closer and that’s not so bad. But wait, here come the effing waves! Dig, dig! Divert the water! Work harder! Noooo! ...everything is broken. Disillusionment seeps in. You are sitting there, letting the waves pound you about, moving your body of it’s own free will. Slowly but surely the tide turns, the waves creep back and lo and behold; perfect castle building sand is exposed and you stare. How beautiful it is. I shall make something of that...
