.jpg)
The thing.
Here's the thing. Wait, the thing? What's the thing? Oh it's that thing you can't quite name, that fills your life and inconveniences you and swallows up your entire everything but you still can't quite name it. That thing. And here it is.
Still.
The thing is still here and bloody hell I am shocked and mad about that.
I had the melt down and I saw the doctor and another one and then a mental health person and they all looked at me like 'that', like I had 'the thing' and then they sent me to another person who did the same and eventually I ended back with my GP and she gave me the look too and she told me she was worried and gave me some medicine that should help me and told me if it didn't help she could give me some more and then I was done.
I was quite pleased with how that all went, with seeing all those helpful people and seeing that I was clearly not making this all up and it is, most definitely, all in my head and they have some more people they want me to see, to be evaulated by, perhaps they can deal with this thing.
I did all that and I told all those people and I cried a lot and did what they said and I assumed it would be over then.
I think H thought the same because he has been so understanding and patient and kind, seeming to understand that the thing that is all in my head can't be helped and is real.
I find, all these weeks later that I am both cross and embarrassed that it is not all over.
I see that H is feeling the same.
It got the better of me last night, something I have fought hard against. We all knew that at some stage, in fact at several stages it might and most probably would get the better of me and I think we have all been tip toeing around in the hope that it wouldn't show itself, or misbehave, that it would stay in my head and have a little escape when everyone was asleep and not make itself all SHOUTY AND IN YOUR FACE!
The thing, it would seem, is acceptable and understandable and 'there, there, you're doing good, we understand', as long as it stays in my head, where it belongs, Bloody thing.
I took the meds and I saw they were working a bit because I cleaned things and felt good about it. I started to think that in-patient care was a scary thing instead of the thing to be longed for. I told my Dr about that she she said that WAS good because in-patient care where we live is pretty much an impossibility which took the wind out of my sails and the rug from underneath my feet, they told me a plan and if I needed it, I just had to do this, followed by that and I would be safe, which made me feel secure and more able to not need it. Now I know that was just something they told me, to stop me needing it, I sort of feel like I DO need it and they LIED and so NOW WHAT?
The Dr told me to double the dose and see how that goes, well it goes in a way that makes me feel as if ants are eating my face but I am starting to care less, so does that mean they are working? I don't know.
They didn't work very well last night and so here I am, scratching my face while the ants eat it and wondering what to do next.
I'm not at church and neither are the boys.
I fought with H last night and he is a sulker so he is still showing me the error of my ways by ignoring me and he walked to church an hour and a half before he needed to and I showed him that he hasn't showed me anything by sitting here in my pyjamas. Consider us well and truly shown.
I have this niggling voice in my head saying "This is not showing the boys anything good" and another one replies with " So? I'm crazy, crazy people can't think straight, what do you want me to do about it?" and so I sit here in my pyjamas and fight with myself in my head.
I think, today, that I am feeling sort of stunned and cross because I realised that this thing isn't a fleeting hiccup that someone handed me so I could take a break. I feel like I ought to be getting over it and be back to normal. The thing is, nothing has changed, has it? I am still here with uncertainty snapping at my heels. I am still having to deal with all the paperwork and phone calls and appointments and answering questions and more questions and getting letters telling me what is being taken away and what we will have to do without and nothing is coming back to tell me what we will have in it's place.
I am still here trying to balance it all and keep it all running for everyone else, trying not to have THEM feel any of what I am feeling.
So I lost control last night and it wasn't over nothing, it was perhaps out of proportion and I will admit that ordinarily I would be appalled at the way I reacted, but here's the thing. HERE...it's right HERE and didn't you hear when I told you about it? What the hell?
All that explaining, what was that about? It was to try and prepare you for the fact that maybe, there will be times when just keeping my mouth shut wouldn't be possible. Just keeping it in, this thing, wouldn't work. It was to try and explain that when something horrible is kept stuffed down, for 20 years or more and then it starts to try and escape, chances are some of it will come out and it isn't going to be in an orderly, 'I say, here's the thing, I do hope it won't inconvenience you or make you uncomfortable' kind of way. I thought that's what all that explaining was about, all the trying to recount what Drs and mental health people said to me. I thought as I explained and you saw me leave for another appointment with another person and as I showed you the drugs they gave me and then as I tried to describe how those were making me feel, you would grasp that this thing isn't something I made up to get me some attention, it isn't a cunning way to get us a house quicker, it isn't a plan to get the government to give us money for nothing, it's a real thing.
So when I lost it because it seemed as if someone was going to hurt one of my children and the reaction wasn't pleasing to you, how wise was it to call me the hysterical mother?
I didn't even lose it. I just gave it a moment to show itself, it's still here, right where I can find it. Not lost at all.
Here's the thing. It's here, wherever I am and yes, it is making me hysterical.
If it's any help to you at all, it's no fun for me either. It's my party and I'll cry, even if I don't want to.
Still.
The thing is still here and bloody hell I am shocked and mad about that.
I had the melt down and I saw the doctor and another one and then a mental health person and they all looked at me like 'that', like I had 'the thing' and then they sent me to another person who did the same and eventually I ended back with my GP and she gave me the look too and she told me she was worried and gave me some medicine that should help me and told me if it didn't help she could give me some more and then I was done.
I was quite pleased with how that all went, with seeing all those helpful people and seeing that I was clearly not making this all up and it is, most definitely, all in my head and they have some more people they want me to see, to be evaulated by, perhaps they can deal with this thing.
I did all that and I told all those people and I cried a lot and did what they said and I assumed it would be over then.
I think H thought the same because he has been so understanding and patient and kind, seeming to understand that the thing that is all in my head can't be helped and is real.
I find, all these weeks later that I am both cross and embarrassed that it is not all over.
I see that H is feeling the same.
It got the better of me last night, something I have fought hard against. We all knew that at some stage, in fact at several stages it might and most probably would get the better of me and I think we have all been tip toeing around in the hope that it wouldn't show itself, or misbehave, that it would stay in my head and have a little escape when everyone was asleep and not make itself all SHOUTY AND IN YOUR FACE!
The thing, it would seem, is acceptable and understandable and 'there, there, you're doing good, we understand', as long as it stays in my head, where it belongs, Bloody thing.
I took the meds and I saw they were working a bit because I cleaned things and felt good about it. I started to think that in-patient care was a scary thing instead of the thing to be longed for. I told my Dr about that she she said that WAS good because in-patient care where we live is pretty much an impossibility which took the wind out of my sails and the rug from underneath my feet, they told me a plan and if I needed it, I just had to do this, followed by that and I would be safe, which made me feel secure and more able to not need it. Now I know that was just something they told me, to stop me needing it, I sort of feel like I DO need it and they LIED and so NOW WHAT?
The Dr told me to double the dose and see how that goes, well it goes in a way that makes me feel as if ants are eating my face but I am starting to care less, so does that mean they are working? I don't know.
They didn't work very well last night and so here I am, scratching my face while the ants eat it and wondering what to do next.
I'm not at church and neither are the boys.
I fought with H last night and he is a sulker so he is still showing me the error of my ways by ignoring me and he walked to church an hour and a half before he needed to and I showed him that he hasn't showed me anything by sitting here in my pyjamas. Consider us well and truly shown.
I have this niggling voice in my head saying "This is not showing the boys anything good" and another one replies with " So? I'm crazy, crazy people can't think straight, what do you want me to do about it?" and so I sit here in my pyjamas and fight with myself in my head.
I think, today, that I am feeling sort of stunned and cross because I realised that this thing isn't a fleeting hiccup that someone handed me so I could take a break. I feel like I ought to be getting over it and be back to normal. The thing is, nothing has changed, has it? I am still here with uncertainty snapping at my heels. I am still having to deal with all the paperwork and phone calls and appointments and answering questions and more questions and getting letters telling me what is being taken away and what we will have to do without and nothing is coming back to tell me what we will have in it's place.
I am still here trying to balance it all and keep it all running for everyone else, trying not to have THEM feel any of what I am feeling.
So I lost control last night and it wasn't over nothing, it was perhaps out of proportion and I will admit that ordinarily I would be appalled at the way I reacted, but here's the thing. HERE...it's right HERE and didn't you hear when I told you about it? What the hell?
All that explaining, what was that about? It was to try and prepare you for the fact that maybe, there will be times when just keeping my mouth shut wouldn't be possible. Just keeping it in, this thing, wouldn't work. It was to try and explain that when something horrible is kept stuffed down, for 20 years or more and then it starts to try and escape, chances are some of it will come out and it isn't going to be in an orderly, 'I say, here's the thing, I do hope it won't inconvenience you or make you uncomfortable' kind of way. I thought that's what all that explaining was about, all the trying to recount what Drs and mental health people said to me. I thought as I explained and you saw me leave for another appointment with another person and as I showed you the drugs they gave me and then as I tried to describe how those were making me feel, you would grasp that this thing isn't something I made up to get me some attention, it isn't a cunning way to get us a house quicker, it isn't a plan to get the government to give us money for nothing, it's a real thing.
So when I lost it because it seemed as if someone was going to hurt one of my children and the reaction wasn't pleasing to you, how wise was it to call me the hysterical mother?
I didn't even lose it. I just gave it a moment to show itself, it's still here, right where I can find it. Not lost at all.
Here's the thing. It's here, wherever I am and yes, it is making me hysterical.
If it's any help to you at all, it's no fun for me either. It's my party and I'll cry, even if I don't want to.
Labels: depression
posted by The other me | 10:03 am
5 Comments:
...and your friends will cry with you.
love you, Helen, and I do hope the darkness lifts and that with the light, an easier path is revealed.
xoxo
Dear H
I'm sorry about what has happened to you and that what is currently happening doesn't seem to make life any better for you. It's obviously not working.
Where in your blog do you tell of the 'something horrible' that 'is kept stuffed down', mah dear?
I want to read about it. If it isn't in here, will you ever consider writing about it?
Peace....at least for a moment dear girl,
M
Helen - You know I <3 you - even when the thing escapes. It has to escape a little bit. Every bit that comes out, is one less bit to be stuffed back in.
I think you're kind of in limbo right now - and can't even begin to settle your head until the rest of you are settled in a proper house - Once that is done - then you can start working on the Thing. It won't be a magic "Oh we have a house, and now the Thing is gone" - but I do think it will be such a burden lifted that the way to get rid of the Thing will become clearer - and the Thing will start to go away.
I think of you often. Good thoughts - so there's that. You can still make me whistle snort, despite The Thing. Stupid Thing. Just go away already!! <3 you and am praying for good things to happen this week!! xx
j.
Oh my dear friend, Helen. My heart aches for you.
I think I agree with Jenn...the little bits that come out mean that those bits don't need to be stuffed back in. I do hope "the thing" will at some point be gone, for good.
As always I am sending my love across the pond to you. xxxx
Okay so a few things.
1) I love you and wish that you didn't have to experience that internal battle which feels as though it will break you into two pieces or at the most into billions of little pieces that one becomes afraid they will never be able to pick up.
2) Any SSRI (if that is what you're on) can take up to 3-6 weeks for them to actually work. Frankly, for some they don't work or it just takes the edge off. If one is not working then I would see if perhaps another can be prescribed as some meds work better than others with different people's chemistry.
3) I understand so well the feeling of isolation. The feeling that no one REALLY understands and they just nod carefully and act as though things are totally fine. Unless of course it makes them go out of their way. The fact is...they don't understand. They will never understand. The internal battle that goes on is something that others, who've never experienced can truly understand. Perhaps one can sympathize but not really empathize and unfortunately it often seems like there is a time limit or behavior limits which must somehow be followed. If only they knew the LONGING of which one desires to not want or end up reacting in some of the ways they do. If only they know how much there is our own internal condemnation that seems to swallow us at times which is only exponentially raised when we're called out negatively about it. If only others knew. For myself I try to remember that I don't understand how they feel either to have to watch someone go through something they don't understand.
I hope that this makes sense. I love you so. I truly do and while I cannot say I understand what you're going through exactly I do understand some of those emotions you're having and its awful.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home