Depression Sucks!

Feeling Blue :-(

This has not been a good few days. Financial worries, a comment about what changes my successor has made to ‘my’ classroom and a throw away remark that my new funky hairdo must have been inspired by Clare Balding have all conspired to plummet me into a slough of despond. Writing that down makes it seem ridiculous, but depression pays no heed to ridiculous, and will get you anyway.

All my adult life, I have struggled to cope with my mental health. You’d think by now I’d be used to it. People show an amazing ability to cope with physical limitations: I suffered injuries to both my eyes while I was teaching, and while my vision will always be less than perfect, my brain has learned to compensate and it only affects me at a minimal level. But depression, not so much. I will never get used to the way that I can suddenly feel so desolate, when five minutes ago I was perfectly fine. I know that everyone has moments of sadness - nobody can be shiny and happy all the time - but depression is different. It is all pervading and gut wrenching. I have a dear friend who responds to this feeling by cleaning her house from top to bottom and throwing away anything that hasn't been used for a week. It has the opposite effect on me. I sit. That’s what I do. I’ve disguised this over the weekend by sitting and watching the Olympics, but really I’m just sitting!

An additional worry is that one of my ways of dealing with these feelings of blackness was throwing myself into my work. I couldn't just sit. I had to get up and get on with things. I also had friends at work that I could talk to - one who cleans and tidies and another who has supported her husband through some difficult times, and used some of her skills on me! These friends will no longer be across the corridor, there in the morning or at the end of every day. I know that if I got in touch with them, they would help me feel better, but people who just sit don't get in touch… It’s a vicious circle. I am lucky that I have a support network in my family, but I also know how much it pains them that I feel this way, and I hate making them feel powerless. Also, the good parent in me means that I want to protect my children from knowing how down I feel. They may be adults, but it’s still my job to protect them. See, vicious circle.

Past experience has taught me that I will feel better. I’ll find new routines to support and motivate me - even I can’t just sit forever - and writing this has been cathartic in a way. I may, however, have blown the ‘I don't want my children to know how I feel’ rule. 

As I’m writing this, my husband has brought me a coffee in my ‘I’M RETIRED, GO AND ASK SOMEONE ELSE’ mug. It seems I can still smile!