a marriage of two halves

When you're married for nearly 25 years....

My husband was in the army when I met him and served 12 years leaving with an honourable discharge in January 2000. I always of thought of my married life as having two halves; the army years and the civie years. That was until hubby got testicular cancer in 2010. Then married life became before cancer and afterwards. My husband was luck the cancer was caught early and he will be 5 years in remission come May 2015. We have wonderful, endless support from the charity checkemlads.com for which I am always grateful. Cancer is the reason I've been on antidepressants for nearly 5 years.

I thought I could handle cancer affecting our family, after all we had got through horrendous debt in 2006, loss of jobs, family issues etc. I thought I was strong and could handle anything, it was a case of bring it on! How wrong I was...

My husband told me in the January of 2010 he had found a lump in his right testicle.  He thought it was probably a cyst, similar to one I'd had removed from my ovaries 5 months previously. He did not hurry to the doctors and I had to nag him to get him there. Then things moved very quickly,  a scan confirmed it was cancer so a date was given for removal. I calmly understood this and got on with my everyday life; family, work, hobbies. But slowly the black black cannonball began to sit on my chest. I couldn't think of anything less but the CANCER. In my mind it began to take on a personality of it's own, a cruel twisted lump which I hated and couldn't see why it was given any right to exist. I would look at my husband and think 'God how I love you' I didn't want to lose him, we had been together for so long we know each other inside and out. So it began.... the waking early, the tears, the irrational thoughts, the sighing, the bleak murky murk brain fog. I was in the grip of depression. My boss the same one who recently spoke to me about stress, called me gor a chat and begged me to ho to the doctors. I'm glad I did I was off work for 10 weeks, but me and hubby got better together and closer than ever.

Cancer still terrifies me, my Dad has it at the moment and along with other issues; family, finances, illness contributed to the depression that grips me now. Yes 5 years ago I did learn to feel better after 9 months, but my GP was never inclined to take me off my antidepressants,  he understood the crutch they had become. That is why the dose was upped before Christmas, and needs upping again. I can't cope with real life at the moment! With everything that I have had in my life I feel at times that yes I'm only 43 but I feel I've lived a number of life times within my 43 years. Cancer affects 1 in 3 of us in the UK and impacts on the lives of 1 in 2. And I hate it, hate it,  hate I hate it!

Support also came from Macmillan Cancer Support and men make sure do your testicular self exam!

if only life were as simple as making bread

How I envy yeast...

I've been making sourdough bread again, sourdough starter is an undemanding life form, it only requires feeding with flour, a sprinkle of sugar or honey and water. You can leave it to do it's own thing, be it on the shelf in the fridge, or the mantel shelf. It asks nothing of me and gives much more in return; delicious homemade bread. There is a life lesson in there somewhere and it's to do with treating something with respect and getting good things in return. I wish my life was as uncomplicated as the that of the yeast living in a jar in my fridge.

Bread making soothes me, it's an activity I can do for my family that gets me out of bed, that means I can be solitary in the kitchen and away from family noise. I love my family but with depression having me in it's clutches,  I can honestly say I would rather be in the kitchen away from them. Sometimes I hide and smoke a cigarette in the back room of our terraced house. Yes it's another hiding place, and yes I am avoiding them. But it's not because I loathe them or can't stand them. Its me that has the problem with them, that's why yeast is a fascinating creature; all bunched together with her sisters, feeding on flour, sugar and water to reproduce and make more and so on. It doesn't need it's own place, peace and quiet, no one puts upon it, no one says 'pull yourself together', no one says as my husband did this afternoon; 'you'll be fine to go back to work in a fortnight!' I don't think so! My job is very hands on, people around all the time, noisy and when I'm well the best most fulfilling job in the world. I don't do my job for me I do it for them. I could work in a less demanding job like a takeaway, but that wouldn't do me. I want to look back and think I made a difference to someone's life, you're not going to get that serving Big Macs!

Life throws you curve balls, I just want to know when a ball straight and true is heading my way? Depression is the curve ball that keeps hitting me, and it's not fair, I wish I had the courage to ask for new balls or a new game, with new rules.

can't be arsed!

It's one of those days....

I'm still in bed and it's early Saturday evening 5.48pm GMT. I have got a case of the 'can't be arsed' about today. Yes it's a waste of a day being in bed, but I feel crap. And I shouldn't, my eldest son is home to visit from university and I should be overjoyed with his visit. 

There's a big problem with depression, Thursday and Friday I feel a lot better, even managed to go see a good friend. However today its one step forward two steps back. I just want to sit here and cry. I suppose you could say I'm wallowing in it, but that's not going to make the sadness go or make me feel better. Twice this week relatives have asked when I'm going back to work. When me and the GP say I'm ready I reply.  But because they can't see the depression (and they were both on the phone at the time) they assume I must be better by now, pulling a fast one, or not trying hard enough to get better.  If only it were that easy!

My boss phoned in the week to ask how I am, I'm shocked at this because my boss, well she is a bitch at times. But she sounded genuine and asked all the right questions.  She understands, depression takes time.  But I feel for her and hope she isn't having too msny staffing ptoblems.

Ok, need to get out of bed, a bath and a cup of tea would be good too....

a candle flickering in the dark

I feel almost content today....

Poor husband has been ill in the night, nothing major and he'll be ok. I've been looking after him and that has switched a light bulb on, I'm needed! I can care for someone and it stops me looking inwards. You could say I feel content, well almost. Interesting how caring for someone makes you feel better.

Babysitting grandson comes next, it's impossible not to smile when you have a cuddly, bubbly, noisy 11 month old in your arms. My grandson is great he makes me smile which helps me mentally greatly. It's the nurturing part than seems to increase serotonin levels. But I'm wary, not because my grandson isn't worth it, he is. Its that nurturing my family as lead to me being ill before,  whereby I'm overwhelmed it, scared and oppressed. Families can do this to you; families are your first port of call for support but can also be the reason support is needed. Sometimes it's easier to seek help else where, you don't want to upset anyone but you always do. It's a vicious circle of the overwhelming family being upset because you sort support outside the family which in turn continues your upset. I love my family though I need them to know it, but I also need them to understand sometimes the sheer volume of all of them scares me snd makes me retreat back upstairs to hide under the covers. 

I'm hiding now as I write this, husband next to me. But I'm starting to feel better, this depressive episode has hopefully reached it's height. I will have positive things to say in future, about myself, about my day, about everything. Nothing lasts forever even a murky murk.

the mountain the mole built

Families, can't live with them can't shoot them....

There are 9 people living in my house, myself, husband, daughters and partners, my sons and my little grandson. You would think our home is a hive of tension but it isn't.  We rarely fight and the home runs smoothly with everyone working together for everyone. We are a cooperative and of that I'm proud.

My wider family on the other hand (aunties, uncles, my siblings, my parents) cause a lot of tension and upset. On Friday morning I posted a heartwarming story about a Russian cat which saved a baby, on my daughter's Facebook page. The story was just what I need to read to help lift my black Black mood. My daughter and I are also big animal lovers especially cats. I know putting stuff on Facebook is not private, but this story caused a lot of grief for me and her. Family members posted concerns and worries about cats, (my 4 cats smothering my grandson) and basically upset my daughter by inferring she is stupid. The mole made a mountain out of his molehill! They had no business commenting on a story I posted for her to read, I hadn't posted it on my wall, just my daughters. It all got out of hand by the afternoon with my siblings commenting and people logging on to facebook to see which story had caused this family ruckus. I don't need this tension not with the way  i feel at the moment. The lesson here? Don't share nice things online, remember everyone has an opinion about you!

I also learnt that I have to look after others, placate my daughter, nurture my close family. I see this train of thought as realisation I'm getting better and maybe the ladder has been lowered into my deep pit. I hope so because I don't like feeling down all the time. The candle is flickering and I can see it. Maybe today I'll smile :)

outside is good!

Finally I have felt the fresh air...

On Monday I went outside my house for the first time in 32 days. Nothing much has changed out there, they are still digging up the road to fill in pot holes, there are no new leaves and the spring bulbs are nervously shooting up their emerald green stalks. In my absence the outside has not done any exciting and new, the sun still rises and the sky is still wintry blue (when you can see it) there is talk on the radio of winter storms over the weekend, so do I continue my self imposed stay and go back to counting the days or do I embrace my new found outside freedom and get cold? It sounds like a good plan a walk in wintry murky murk, it would suit my mood. Going out there has not relinquished the hold my depression has on me, mores the pity, but I need to get out there force myself to do it, even if it's only to walk to the pond and feed the ducks.

I'm also going to make myself go back on Facebook. It's not fair how I've given up on my friends like this. The ones who know me and love me understand my depressive episodes and are still here, checking on me through my husband and children. I miss my friends but not enough to bother them with my feelings. I don't want to drag them down into my pit of mud. I do love them and will see them again soon.

I'm still struggling to sleep at night, no coke or coffee after 6pm and it still makes no difference. I've still got irrational fears whirling round my mind, it's not like I can write them down to think about tomorrow, they still crawl around inside my head at 3am making their presence feel. Because of not sleeping I feel crap during the day, the vicious circle of fear, lack of sleep, irrational thoughts, blackness is feeding my mood. I have to start telling my GP all this I'm sure my medication needs upping. I need to relax, think of something positive.

Looking forward I don't want to feel like this forever. I want to go back to work, come home, play with my grandson, I want an almost normal life, but I can't see forward yet and that scares me. My husband and daughter say small steps, take it a day at a time. I try to is all I can say and do. 

Don't want to always be like this....

the rich and famous have it too!

It can strike anyone at anytime...

I've been learning about Empress Elisabeth of Austria http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Empress_Elisabeth_of_Austria, I share a lot of her symptoms and however rich she was she was deeply unhappy; depressed for most of her life. It seems that having it all is not having it all. Elisabeth also had several psychosomatic illness in her life, something I can relate to having fibromyaglia myself. Sisi has her family called her like me had an obsessive personality,  Sisi was obsessed with maintaining a youthful appearance at all times, so much that it made her ill, she suffered from bulimia and insomnia. Grief at losing her only son pushed her to the edge, so much so that her family when learning about her death at the hand of an assassin,  thought at first reports it had been a suicide. This poor woman was plagued by the blackness of depression as a lot of us are.

It does annoy me greatly that people who have never suffered depression think they can judge you and your illness by what you have in your life. I do have a good life to all outward appearances, my family are my rock, and shelter me and comfort me whether I'm good or not, we're certainly not rich by any means and struggle like many to pay bills. My husband has long term health issues and my home is over crowded because my children can't afford to move to places of their own. So yes I have a lot to be depressed about and my situation with money, health, family is reason enough for my depressive episodes. I can't cope with it at all at the moment,  my coping mechanism is lost. So why do I jump to defend those who have more than me and still have depression? Because having it all is stressful, overwhelming and unnerving. If you like me are timid, overwhelmed with social situations and have as I call it a default grumpy gene, then having it all is going to be depressing too. Life isn't easy, people who have worked hard to get to the top are often depressed because once they have got there what else is there? They don't have the fight, the hard work, the struggle anymore so they feel empty and nothingness. The struggle is a trigger for depression but so is the conclusion. Fighting for something makes people happy and fulfilled, I've read about people who struggled through WW2 in London; the blitz, the rationing, the fear for loved ones, the hard work they put in in soup kitchens and tea wagons. They describe a hard but generally happy life with purpose, only to become depressed when the struggle was over the war was won and they had had their purpose in life taken from them. Of course new struggles, new work found them and they coped. But the lesson is sometimes working towards your goal is more satisfying than achieving it.

So I have goals in mind to occupy me while I'm trying to be happy again. I need to remember that getting/struggling/working towards there is going to be the treatment, not the actual goal itself, I can't make it too difficult, but also not too easy. Maybe working towards something is a medicine in itself.

colouring books as therapy

Adding colour to my life...

I saw an interesting article in the press a couple of days ago regarding art therapy for stressed adults http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/features/colouring-books-for-adults-how-the-french-are-going-crazy-for-crayolas-9883103.html so I thought why not? I went on amazon and bought a bookhttp://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/184994167X?psc=1&redirect=true&ref_=oh_aui_detailpage_o07_s01 Millie Marotta's Animal Kingdom and bought some pencil crayons. I haven't just sat there and coloured in for years. Now to be honest I am finding it a big stress, there are lots of patterns , and I am at the moment just putting swathes of colour over the patterns because I can't cope with the small details. But my son who is interested in art therapy told me it will come and as I get better and progress through the book the smaller details will be filled in. I'm looking at it as a work in progress,  hopefully it will show me how I'm getting better over the weeks. 

I phoned up work yesterday to inform them I'm still on a sicknote from my GP for another 4 weeks. They told me I've been referred to occupational health, that they want to assess me too before I think about going back to work. This is of course stresses me, I have loads of irrational thoughts and fears that maybe it's a ploy to get rid of me which of course it isn't.  If I well I'd see how silly this is. I don't need a complex that they're all out to get me as well. 

So tomorrow my GP is phoning to chat about how I'm feeling, I have to be honest,  like I have been on here. But I know I'll hold back something, GPs don't judge and no they are not going to send me back to work as ill as I am. However I am worried he will say you are getting better, he's not going to see me taking the phone call in bed, after a night of not sleeping again. I am thinking now I'll be honest,  tell him everything; the black black cannonball of sadness sat in my chest, how I'm struggling to be with my family because the noise stresses me, how everything looks grey and murky, how I really worry about everything. 

Maybe I am mad?

I am not a rag doll!

Depression is an illness you know...

I've not slept a wink last night, I don't feel particularly tired, just very stressed. Not sleeping is a depressive person's worst case scenario. You run things around in your head, the calm voice is quiet, the nagging voice loud. I also have a Dean Martin song on repeat, it's a musical brain worm.

Not sleeping means you are not refreshing your serotonin, which makes the depression worse, I certainly feel especially depressed today, not just from lack of sleep but the fact the lack of sleep has dampened my serotonin levels. It's a vicious circle. I am on sertraline antidepressants http://www.drugs.com/sertraline.html and have been since 2010, in December my GP upped my dose from 50mg to 100mg, that was 4 weeks ago and I really don't feel they are making much difference yet.

Depression, anxiety, obsessive thoughts, irrational thoughts,  panic attacks (this is me on a bad day) are an illness the same as pneumonia, cancer, tonsillitis,  you go to the doctor to be treated just the same. When I speak to my husband about past depressive episodes and why we didn't do such and such I'll say well I was ill then, the same as when I had a bad gall bladder infection last year or when I had ovarian cysts removed 5 yesrs ago. I'm also ill with firbromyalgia, its a painful condition in which the sufferer feels pain in their joints but it's psychosomatic, the pain is real but not really there. http://www.arthritisresearchuk.org/arthritis-information/conditions/fibromyalgia.aspx. 

I just wish more people understood depression. You can't just pull yourself together, you are not a rag doll! Nor can you simply take stock (count your blessings as one misguided churchgoer told me)and think everything I have in my life is good. I do have good things in my life, a loving husband,  supportive family, a gorgerous grandson, but would you honestly say to someone ill with cancer ' Put yourself together,  you have a good family' and expect them to get better! No you certainly would not, so why say it to someone who's depressed they are ill too, they need treatment,  be it medical or therapy. 

I am ill, and those that care for you notice the signs and symptoms, sometimes long before you the depressive does. And there are physical, outward signs and symptoms. Personally I stopped taking care of myself. When I'm well I'm well groomed, make up, roots touched up, smart clothing. my friends at work noticed I stopped doing my hair and stopped the make up, a few weeks before I did, I was climbing down into a dark pit and never noticed. The big involuntary world weary sigh is also a symptom others notice, especially if they've had depression issues themselves. I also couldn't sleep, I worried irrationally, cried in the toilets and waited for my doom. It came when I was called into the office to be told off by my boss, my work had taked a downturn. I had my nervous breakdown then and I have been off work since. I don't blame my boss she has the right to expect the best from her staff especially in the job I do. 

Life throws at you curveballs like depression, I have been made to recognise this so many times. Sleep as ever is illusive, and at 9.49am GMT I have to admit defeat and try to face the day. I'll get there....

January

Now the Christmas decorations are down...

The family put the decorations away last night to await next Christmas. In a way I'm glad the forced jollity of December has gone and I don't have to pretend anymore. Christmas is for children anyway not us grumpies, my grandson's first Christmas and he was spoilt rotten, I'm glad though because he is my darling boy.

A friend from work phoned yesterday just to catch me up on gossip, I was interested in the goings on at my workplace but I'm far from ready to go back to the 9-5 workmill.

 Having a depressive episode in the winter is not so great, the sun on my back and all that daylight might make go out to get some fresh air, I haven't gone outside for 3 weeks, not that I think I am missing much,  it's dank, miserable weather out there anyway. The weather I suppose matches my mood. In January the daylight is short, spring sems far far away and everything is grey, brown, murky, cold. It reminds me of the first verse of Christina Rossetti's poem 'In the bleak midwinter' http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/238450 though of course Rossetti's poem does go to talk of the nativity scene amd God and all that,  something I don't believe in.

So January what do you offer?

can't get no sleep

Still in bed at 12.43 pm GMT

The worse thing about feeling the way I do is that I'm either very sleepy or can't sleep st all. It's the worry going around like the proverbial windmills, the what ifs the must remembers. Then I get hit by the exhausted big sleep in which I can sleep for up to 15 hours, only to be woken by a worried husband. 

I should be back to work today it being the first Monday after the Christmas break. I'm still on a sick note from my GP, I don't feel anywhere near really to go back to wotk yet. My job is very full on, it's working with people and you have to well in your mind to cope with it all.  I'm going to get up in a minute and make sourdough breadsticks for my grandson,  and then cook a stew for the evening meal. I still find it hard to concentrate on tasks such as cooking and baking, relatively easy tasks which when I'm not depressed I find calming. 

The black black cannonball lies heavy on my chest dragging me down today,  I feel very low, I'm going to hide from the family because I can't cope with the noise. It's so sad I can't cope with all, I love them so much, but I have to protect myself and them from myself and the pit I feel in today. They all understand how I'm feeling and know that it isn't a reflect on them.

This grey, gloaming January day is shitty, the grey cloaks me, the cannonball sits there, I need a good shake.....

education has it's benefits.

I have a degree you know...

Back in 1999 when NATO was bombing the hell out of Serbia, my husband was working his last year out in the British army. I was also in the grip of what the GP called postnatal depression,  my youngest child a boy was 16 months old at the time,  we had moved house and taken on a mortage the previous year, my beloved Gran had died 6 months before. I was alone in a new town, far from family, had no friends to speak of and husband was working 20 hour shifts to make sure those bombs got delivered. Is it any wonder I was in the middle of a depressive episode! 

This time the doctor put me on the antidepressant citalpram, http://www.patient.co.uk/medicine/citalopram-cipramil-paxoran and during one visit to his office I had had to take all 4 of my children (ages 7 to 1 years) he told me I was an intelligent woman but very overwhelmed with my responsibilities. What do you mean? I asked, the doctor explained that depression often hits those who are high achieving, clever but also find their coping mechanisms lacking. I was overwhelmed alright, I was grieving my Gran, worrying about my husband,  worrying about the world in general. Ok I admit it I couldn't sleep with worry about the Balkans, I was obsessive, and on the verge of being delusional. I was very ill. Then the doctor suggested the Open University. He said to get better I needed something for me, and 4 children and a house to run wasn't enough, it wasn't something for me alone. I went out thinking, ok yeah like I've got time for that!

But the antidepressants kicked in, I began to feel better, the worry about the situation in the Balkans seemed silly, (though of course not silly to those who lived there), husband finished up his last stint in the army, my youngest 2 children grew a bit and slept through the night. I still grieved for and missed my beloved Gran, but I had my coping mechanisms back, these antidepressants worked! So I remembered what the doctor said and applied to read social science at the Open University http://www.open.ac.uk it's a great way to distance learn, with regular tutorials, tutors who are only a phonecall a while and you study at your own pace. I did a Bsc in 6 years rather than the normal 3 years. I'm proud to have letters after my name Bsc (hons) and like the doctor said it was all mine, something for me. I also made 2 wonderful friends who I'm still close to 15 years later. And yes that depressive episode lifted. 

So in short maybe I need to look back at myself 15/16 years and revisit what the doctor said. The same overwhelming feeling I had back then is here now, but what to do.....

1993

The first time...

When I found myself pregnant for the 2nd time in 1993 I was overjoyed to say the least, the first pregnancy has gone smoothly, no depression before or after and there was no indication this 2nd pregnancy would be any different. 

I lived in Bielefeld Germany at the time because my husbsnd was serving in the British Army, it was a beautiful summer that year and in the August my brother came over to stay for a month. We visited the local safari park, went shopping, had barbecues and talked long into the night. I having so much fun being pregnant. Then one evening as I was going to check on my 1st child my daughter I lose my footing on the wooden steps and fell on to my growing bump. Water leaked out of me....I calmly sat down in the lounge and pointed out a hedgehog in the back garden before saying to my husband we need to go to the army medical centre. We rushed there, I was scared but not so much it was a weird feeling. The medics checked me and I was lucky the water wasn't from the baby it was from my bladder which had leaked when I fell. Husband took me home, put me to bed and that is when the first ever grip of depression took me.

I had also slipped a disc in my lower back very early on in the pregnancy,  it pained me before but suddenly from that evening on the pain was worse, a gnawing ever present pain that matched the blackness that was now creeping across my heart. The other day my GP said backache and depression go hand in hand making both hard to treat. That year I can testify that it's true. Day by day I went down, I worried and obsessed over news items convinced it was going to happen to me. At my worse I developed a morid fear of death, I was going to die having this baby and I was only 21. I only mentioned how bad my back was to health visitors,  doctors, my midwives convinced that if they knew what was really going on in my head I would lose this baby and my beautiful toddler daughter. Looking back I still did all the mum things, still loved and nurtured her, a small nugget in my mind told me she was going to be ok.

So looking back what happened in the end? My health visitor concerned about my back pain, lack of sleep (in hindsight I believe she could read me like a book, she knew exactly what was going on in my head) gave me a new friend, this friend came from a wonderful organisation called Homestart http://www.home-start.org.uk/, this wonderful woman came 3 times a weeks to listen to me, take me out and importantly talk to me,. I remember it seemed harsh at the time and indeed I remember crying buckets but she told me to face facts, the baby was healthy (he weighed 9lb at birth) I was fortunate to having a beautiful daughter, a lovely husband, live a tax free life in wonderful Germany. At the time I don't believe it really helped, looking back it helped enormously. I took stock and even though the blackness of depression still gripped and terrified me I wasn't alone anymore. But still I never until years later told anyone even my husband how severe the depression that year really was. And so in the November after a short 3 hour labour my son was born.

The moment he was born and given to me was like an ice cold bucket of water was poured over me from above. The depression that sat on my chest had lifted. I still had a bad case of the baby blues over the next couple of days, but the army hospital staff looked after us splendidly and after a week I was ready to go home and begin again, to take up the life that I'd left behind 4 months previously in the summer. Yes I still worried and obsessed but life felt lighter, cosier, more real. Life at 22 was good. Now looking back at the end of 1993 beginning of 1994, I wish I ther now, instead of being here in 2015 feeling as low as I do. The first experience of the black black cannon ball was awful, but it shows me there is a flickering candle at the end of the hard granite tunnel.

it runs in the family

My Dad has it too...

I grew up in a small town called Bewdley in north Worcestershire UK. It's the sort of quaint little town tourists flock to in the summer because of the charming little shops, the river views,  the quiet. As a teenager it was to me the place I ran away from, I wanted more out of life; urban culture, theatres, music. But now I'm older Bewdley is the place I want to run to, my parents still live there and probably always will.

My Dad it seemed to me when I was 9 or 10 was born miserable, he was grumpy, he shouted, moaned about everything. I thought this was the default setting for most hard working unreconstructed men, but looking at other's fathers this wasn't the case, their Dads were happy with their lot, they loved their wives and kids. Mum told us children Dad's moods were down to his childhood (divorced parents, domestic violence, latch-key kids, one child loved above others) and this certainly contributed to my Dad's depression. But looking back at the family tree, I remember his father my grandfather as the same. Grandad has been dead for little under a year, he was 95 when he died and that's a fine age to live to! But grandad was miserable most of the time too, my gran (his divorced but long suffering ex wife) told me stories that would upset me too much to reveal here so I won't.  The long and the short of it was grandad was a hoarder, he had approximately 14 cars rusting on his front lawn when he died, a year on from his death and my parents are struggling to sort out the house such is the volume of stuff he hoarded; 2 metric tonne of newspapers, crockery, tobacco tins, the list goes on! Grandad had an obsessive personality, the hoarding is part of this, a branch of OCD. No wonder my Dad was like stuck down with depressive episodes! I do believe grandad had episodes of depression too, he would get obsessed with something while depressed and then become too depressed to do anything about it. The familiar link to all this is I'm a hoarder too and I get obsessed with things, at the moment it's sourdough, but who knows what else is around the corner.

I can see looking at my family depression, is in our genes in the same way I have my Dad's shape face, my grandad's eyes. I wonder if they too had the same black black cannon ball in their chests, the same murk I wake to every morning. I love them both my Dad and Grandad and not out of obligation,  in looking at their depression it helps me to understand mine and why I have it. Inheritance is more than what you are left in an elderly relative's will,  it's also what they give you physically as well. I have depression, as does my father and my grandfather. 

Waking up and down again :(

1st January 2015

On the face of it my life looks good I'm happily married and will be for 25 years this August, I have 4 beautiful children, 2 girls and 2 boys; they are grown up or nearly there, the icing on the cake is that I'm a grandmother and love my grandson more than anything. 

So you may ask what is wrong with my life? It looks good and I suppose it really is, however I suffer from sometimes crippling depressive epidodes, I'm in the grip of one right now and have been since September 2014. I know the triggers and being a generally anxious person anyway I fought this one until the beginning of December, I then had a nervous breakdown at work and had to admit to everyone what I had not admitted to myself I was depressed. 

The thing is I'm still on antidepressants from my last episode when my husband had testicular cancer (he is good and in remission) I guess I bottle everything up and then wait for the breakdown to tell me its time to admit it and let it in!

So I suppose this blog is my own self indulgent way of telling how it is. (I've been told by people depression is a self indulgence, I hope these idiots never have to suffer).

So it's 1st January 2015, I woke up this morning feeling stale and not from drinking last night. It's hard to describe depression because its so individual but mainly I feel I have a lump in my chest, a sigh that I expel and isn't because I'm content, I have a fear of crowds and even small family groups have lead to me running up stairs tearful at my inability to cope. This more than post Christmas, new year blues which most people have in a cold January, grey, with scudding clouds and what the Scottish call the gloaming I call the murky murk. I just can't shake of the lump in my chest, I try the suggestions my GP has given me, walks outside in the murky murk, not staying in bed, phoning a friend, visiting a friend. They all fill me with fear and all I see is a darkness around me, crippling me, the lump becomes a cannon ball weighing me down, making me feel worse. I know I'm waiting for the antidepressants to kick in, but I've still spent whole days in bed, not spoken to friends, the cannon ball growing.

The fight against this depressive episode is a little grain, under the lump, I need to nurture it, it needs to grow, I'm grateful it's there at all, I just need to listen to it, so with a wry smile it begins, my writing it down is a sort of therapy, its there to see in black and white, the fear, anxiety, the lump, the sigh, the murky murk, the noir.