Today, and the last few days, I find myself looking out at the world from behind the dreaded glass wall. I can fight with myself, I can try and ignore it, but there’s no getting away from it. It’s there and it absolutely sucks. I’m functioning, I’m doing what I need to, but it’s all a little distant, as though I’m at a remove from everything. Does that make sense? I’m trying so hard to remember what I’ve written before, to think of all the good things, but my god is it hard work. If I had my way, I’d crawl into bed, pull the duvet over my head and stay there. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to engage. Oh but I’m good at happy face. I do happy face really well, and right now, it’s a defence that’s working well for me.
Because admitting I’m not feeling good makes it more real, and I don’t want it to be more real. The memory of the most recent episode is still very raw, and I’m loath to think I’m even slightly feeling that way again. Bitchface on the other hand – she is so determined to make me give in.
I saw Therapist today. It was tough, she was lovely, I cried a lot. Acceptance is still a big issue for me. Of my mind in all it’s depressive glory, of the necessity of full time work, of the uncertainty around said full time work, of on-going financial strain………….I’m bowing under the pressure. I know I won’t break. I know I’m stronger than that. But what I wouldn’t give not to feel like this………I feel ashamed, and embarrassed, and frustrated, and angry. And tired. So tired of having to dig myself out of the same old hole. I’m not ashamed etc for writing about it, but for the fact that I feel it in the first place. I realise this flies in the face of a lot of what I’ve written before, and I’m working hard to pull it back. But that’s the problem with depression. It loves all those nasty feelings, just loves them. So this is as close as I can get to admitting I’m not ok. I’ll get through it. It’ll pass, again.