Despite my absence, There Are Clouds Inside My Head has been unsettlingly inhabiting my every day thoughts. My conscience leading me to feelings of betrayal in my failure to record the enormity of the last couple of months in My World, my silence driven by the wait, the uncertainty and the fragility of the potential change afoot. My current state of mind lacking a category in which to fit, missing an achievement to be celebrated, or a euphoria to be shouted from the rooftops.
For the last month I have rejoined The World. I inhabit a marriage, I own the role of daughter, friend and sister. I am a Mother who is present and deeply affected ( in a good way ) by their every move. Some relationships are wounded and there is a fear that they will remain scarred for life, but I am ok with this – people are people and they responded to me ( or not ) as they were able. They are not bad people, they were just emotionally ill equipped to acknowledge or responded to my darkness. On bad days I believe them not to care, on better, I feel sad for the shoulder that was not offered.
My functioning is limited, my ordering of thoughts acceptable to poor. My life is frightening to behold and I am lost in its vastness. My ability to plan a future is severely impaired. I can inhabit the seconds but not yet the hours, the days, the months. Cast my mind forward in the day to school picking up time, preparing dinner time, weekend spare time – then the nausea takes hold and breaths becomes short and laboured. Living is difficult, a relentless conscious effort – I don’t feel quite able to claim to be Living, but I am giving it my best shot. And for now, that will have to do.
My Mood is a vital organ and it is made of the thinnest glass imaginable. Whilst all is calm, it is smooth, even slightly shiny, it allows a clear view of the world. When anxiety looms, it shatters, before a heartbeat can pass, shatters, into millions, billions, of minute fragments and the imminent crash is enough to threaten my entire being. My Mood organ must learn to trust that emotions are many and varied in every Being who walks on this earth, that sadness does not equate to the all consuming, paralysing depression it has just known. That anxiety need not seek solace in sleep, nor loneliness be the signal to write off the potential of friends just because they are unable to fill the gaping void inside of me.
What is to become of me I do not know. The depression is close by and always ready to come calling for my Soul, but for now, it is being held at bay and whilst sadness and fear is ever present, the devastation and destruction has passed. I may be unable to celebrate or shout from the rooftops, or tell spectacular tales of a battle to reclaim my Soul, but I will quietly smile to myself, knowing where I have been and being thankful that my Soul remained after the horrific assault it sustained for so long.
Many may shout me down for this, present arguments to say differently, be incensed by my simplistic take on events, but I can only report what I have lived – my Soul was resurrected by anti depressants. There can be no denying it. For me, they have made life liveable once more.
I can talk, and experience joy from talking. I desire interaction and to spend time in the company of others. I welcomed in the New Year with people I was able to feel fondness and kindness towards. The thought of a day on my own, lying on the sofa, could not be less appealing. I can love.
My ‘ poison ‘ has become my saviour and although the loathing of ingesting those three little pills has not eased, you wouldn’t get me to part with them, not for a million pounds.