Memories disturbed. Disturbed memories.

There  was a little something on the tv the other night. It involved kids on their last day at school. There was a lot of signing of shirt, selfies and general hugs and a few screams.

Did you have something like this? I must have left on a different day to everyone else, there was nothing like that at all and I walked across the front of the school and down the drive alone.

It's often something small that triggers a memory. Children in a playground, playing on the swings. Nope. Going clothes shopping with friends. Nope.

Going into my 20s was the same. Out on the town with friends/mates. Nope. Friends coming over. Nope.

Why was this? I had no friends. I was afraid to make friend. Painfully shy and reclusive. In my job I could talk to people. I think wearing a sort of a uniform (I  wore a suit) it was easier to interact with people, I was allowed to do this, it was my job. Does that make any sort of sense?

It has taken me years to reach an understanding of all this. I think I know why I turned out this way, but it has only served to push me towards depression. Nowadays I don't want friends, I want to be alone  (said with accent). I've wasted more then ten years just wanting to stay at home and not talk to other people. Ten years! All my life I've tried to be away from people. I was suicidal when my first husband left me and even now I have a backup plan for if I'm widowed. I have no-one to care for me in old age if my husband passes away before me. There are some who would say they would care, but I don't believe them, I'm not really their family. They accept me now as married to tch but would not be interested in putting themselves out for me afterwards. How do I know this? At gatherings of tch's family no-one ever takes a photo of me. They take photos of everyone else, I've got numerous pics of tch opening christmas presents over the years but only one of me. Daft little reason, but it's the small things that tell the most. The larger gestures are expected, but the little ones speak volumes.

The happiest things in my life at the mo are the puppies. They are almost a year old now. Still not house trained, very messy on occasion, but we're getting there. If it's raining they just look at me as if to say, "You want me to go out there?!" and then do it in the house. Trouble is, they're bigger and stronger now as well. They can reach just about anything anywhere. Only safe place is the mantlepiece. The little one can jump onto the dining table, she's wrecked tch's briefcase, and post we leave on there, and they both love a coaster or a sofa cushion. Cute when they're asleep though. Dread to think what they're dreaming about though.

When I have upsetting memories I try to see that they can't be changed, they are in the past. Nothing can change this. Learn from them and then try to move on. Look for the positives, not the negatives. I stay here at home all day with only my pupps for company - but they are lovely and will encourage me to go out for a walk when I feel ready for it. Look for something positive, however small. I'ts always there.

This one's boring.

Once again I've had a really bad few weeks.
As usual, I'm not sure why. I can often identify the starting point, but not this time.

Depression is a shit. It can sneak up and wrap itself around me so easily, making it hard to even move about.

I don't know how this episode started, where it came from. I've spent days, sometimes weeks feeling so weak and tired that I'm unable to walk upstairs hardly. I say hardly because there's really no option, I have to get upstairs. Could I pee in a bucket? No. Well, I've never tried. So unless I can move the bathroom and bedroom downstairs, there's no choice.

I can't cope with much when I'm depressed. Generally I just want to sleep. To go to bed, pull the duvet over me and try my best to switch off from the world. I read once that the first sign of suicide is to want to go away somewhere and be alone, to get away from everything and everyone. I wonder if wanting to go to sleep and switch off is the same thing? Dunno but they're pretty similar.

Unfortunately (?) I can't switch off from the world because of the puppies. I've talked about them before. I must deal with them and their many poos and pees, usually in the house. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? It doesn't feel good to me sometimes, when I'm really low and wanting my bed.

I used to have a life. Not sure where it went, I used to have friends and a job. We used to enjoy the weekends. Now I don't want to leave the house and often just want my bed.

What a boring post this is. But this is what life with a depressive is, most of the time. On the times I have to go out I can be sparkly and appear happy and join in with a conversation. This is absolutely exhausting. I can't tell you what it takes out of me to do this. When I get back home I could sleep for a week. No-one knows this, no-one sees it. So many depressives are like this. Think about Robin Williams, a perfect example.

I'm going now. I need to go to sleep. xxx

Christmas, Christmas and Christmas again

Christmas, Christmas and Christmas again. Sounds fun when I say we had Christmas on 25th, 26th and 28th of December this year.

25th, home, just the two of us.
26th, down to see my family, bout 150 miles away.
28th, all tch's family came to us, 17 of us this year.

Now I simple can't tell you how tired I am. As a depressive I don't do much and don't leave the house much either. I'm still coping with the whole puppy poo thing. Don't misunderstand me, it was lovely to see everyone. There's just so much to do. It looks so easy, we put the food out buffet style and everyone helps themselves. I've hurt my back, that probably accounts for me finding it all so hard.

Lovely Christmas tho. Totally different in both places. At my family's everything is done properly. Small children have become used to this and know they are expected to be fairly quiet and very well behaved. You will use a serviette, know your place and wait obligingly while someone else gives your presents out. In our house, everyone sits wherever they want to. In fact there's not enough seats when they all pile into one room, so it's every man for himself then. We do a game every year where each person opens a drawer of our coffee table to find a little gift inside. Our living room is not big enough for 17 people and definitely not big enough for the 21 that we usually are. It's very squashed up, but great fun. This year the gift was egg cups, seemed to go down alright.  Once they've all taken food from the buffet, find a seat wherever you can. For some reason everyone stayed in the kitchen/diner. Bit cramped but I liked it, I had a chance to speak to everyone.

Now that it's all over, I am so, so glad to be able to relax. Tch has gone out for about 2 hours and I've had a bit of a tidy up. Puppies are still doing the 'run around outside but come back in to pee' thing. Bless. Arrrgh!

I think I've coped with Christmas, my family, tch's family, chatting, listening and responding very well this year. I'm calm and didn't allow anything to upset me.

Well, I've rambled on a lot in this posting. I'm sorry it's not been about much, and with no real point discussed. Maybe that's the way my head is at the moment. I shall make it more interesting, honest.

I wish you all a healthy and happy New Year. If we can achieve those things, then everything else will follow 😊

I still miss her when I'm ironing

That's the cat again, sorry. When I would put up the ironing board she would always squawk at me, wanting attention. Her bed was nearby. I still expect to hear her.

My post today is not about missing her, it's about the way she lived her life. It's a lesson for us all, I think.

From the first day I had her as a little kitten, Katie was afraid of everything and hissed and spit at anything that came close to her. She had rare moments when she would allow me to stroke her, and then only on the top of her head. Anywhere else and you can look out!

As the only pet in the house, besides a budgie, she had full run of the place and would sleep on the end of the bed, sometimes. As a young cat she would come when I called most of the time. We moved house and she coped with that, grudgingly. Still was fearful of everything and hissed at it all.

My point? I'm getting there, honest.

If you live your life fearful of everything around you, and if you 'hiss and spit' at anything that comes near you, then you will not have a life. Rather, life will pass you by. Your life will never be enriched by laughter and friends. You will never know the joy of companionship or the happiness that comes from doing something for others. If you live your life into old age, still fearful, still 'spitting', then you will have accomplished nothing and experienced only fear.

Big words. I acknowledge that I live more like Katie at the moment. I don't go out of the house very often, I don't answer the phone and I certainly don't socialise unless I have to. But I can see the errors in this, I can see that my life would be so much better if I could move in a different direction.

My lovely Katie didn't have much of a life, she was so frightened by it. Here's a good point - she was unable to tell if another cat/dog was trying to make friends with her, she saw only something to be afraid of, something that wanted to attack her. So she missed out on having a companion to live with, when her life could have been so much better had she been able to befriend the other cat/dog. Make friends, try to be more comfortable around others, they are not going to bite you. Probably.

Depression is a bitch. The medication, the anti-depressants, are the crutch to help you to get back into life. They are not the cure. They will lift your mood sufficiently to enable you to begin the business of getting back to your life. But do it one step at a time, baby steps, little steps.

Little steps was probably the best piece of advice ever given to me by a healthcare professional. I was becoming very anxious that I was expected to jump straight back into life and I knew that I couldn't cope. Little steps are manageable little chunks, whatever works for you really.

I'm really tired now, so I'll talk about this some more another time x

Well she had a good run...

She was my cat. Thought I'd better put that up there first, she wasn't a person.  My Katie died the day before yesterday, and I'm so sad about it. I really, really, really don't like it when anyone says 'well, she had a good run'. I've heard people say this when a person dies very old. It's like I'm not supposed to be sad because of it. If your Granny dies at 98, you shouldn't be sad because she's 'had a good run'?!  And another thing... 'he's had a good innings'... give me strength! If this is the only thing you have to say, then say nothing. Please.

Back to my Katie, she was about 3 weeks away from being 20yrs old. Careful now. Don't say it. When she was well she was a fairly big fluffy girl. Hold on, I shall try to find a photo for you.

There we are, a little pic of her sunbathing one summer and one of her looking really well and healthy. That's the way to remember her.

If you're not a pet, you won't understand this. I haven't had any children of my own (long story, let's not go there today) and my pets are part of my family. When my ex-husband left me, Katie was a big part of my life. I came home from work every day to a cold empty house and she would be there. Aside from the fact that I also had a budgie in a cage which Katie thought was her packed lunch.

I've had a tough couple of months. Can't put my finger on anything that's caused it, but depression is like that. Sudden slides into melancholy, with no reason or rhyme.

I guess there's one reason, maybe. Every day constantly cleaning up the pee and poo of 2 little puppies. They are gorgeous, loving, playful and I love 'em to bits, but So. Much. Poo. You would never believe how much mess they can create. We have puppy pads, big square sheets of quilted paper, for them to use. So it goes like this:

Me:     You like to pee just here, I'll put a pad down for you to use.
Pupps: Look! She's put this paper thing right where I like to pee. I'll have to find              somewhere else now!

This happens over and over again 😧

They are lovely though, and this stage won't last forever. It's hard to toilet train them to go out in the garden when this time of year is cold, wet and gets dark so early. They don't want to go there then, and I can't say I blame them. We'll get there though. As a depressive, it's hard to face this big clean up first thing every morning. Although tch will have cleaned up once before he went to work, he will also have fed them... which means more lovely poo. When I go down to them I'm trying to clean up the poo and the pee whilst they are throwing themselves at me in joy and probably jumping through the mess as they do it. Focus on the joy. Focus on the joy. I'm sitting in my bed writing to you and it's 9am. Soon I must venture forth into the land of funny smells, to do battle.

There's another thing, the puppy smell. I'm not talking about the lovely aromas that emanate from the back end. The smell of a puppy's neck is one of the most wonderful smells in the world. Aside from the mass clean-ups these two have been fantastic for my mental health. I will just be glad when I don't have to cope with the mess all day long.

I showed you a photo of a now-dead cat, so here's a more cheerful one of 'the girls'.

 This was a couple of weeks after we had them in September. Two and a half months later and they are a fair bit bigger. The shorter one's a staffordshire bull terrier and the taller one's an Italian greyhound. I love this photo though. I'll try to find a more up to date one to show you another day.

My thought to end this entry is something I said earlier: it won't last forever. So when you're having a shit day and maybe it feels like everything is going wrong, try to think 'it won't last forever'. It sometimes helps me.

LoadsaLove x

Why am I here?

I sometimes wonder why I'm still here. Not entirely in a suicidal way, just simply why? There are so many other things I could be doing, places I could be going. My mental health dictates that I remain here, at home, away from scary things like... fresh air and the like. I must stay in, not go out.

My apologies, this entry rambles a bit. Brain is fried.

I have cut myself off from social media sites, hard to specify why. I think I felt obliged to join in, much as one would at a party, and I cannot cope there. Amazingly I don't miss it, considering I was on facebook and messenger every day previously. Mostly to thc's family, no-one on my side uses it very much. I have this need to switch off from everything. To silence everything.

I have two little ones to care for at the mo. They're two little puppies, about 2 months old now, I think. One has health problems, I think she came from a puppy farm. One of those you hear about, that does  not treat them well. She was full of worms when she came to us and now she walks funny. The vet said she might have the canine form of spina bifida. She doesn't know though, and happily waddles about trying to keep up with the other one. Let me see if I can find you a photo of them...

There, this is my favourite photo of them. They're a bit bigger now as this was taken 2 weeks ago. Yes they are very cute, but you would not believe how much mess they can create. They poo and pee more than they eat/drink, I'm sure of it!

I have hurt my back (again) a couple of days ago. It has been very difficult to clean up after them properly. They are gorgeous... when they're asleep. Preferably on me as well. Do you know what a puppy pad is? It's a large square of quilted paper for them to pee on. We are nearing the end of our 3rd box of 100 pads. I think I'm nearing the end of my rope as well!  They do the occasional pee on a pad, but most of the time they treat them as markers for where not to go!

I had an annual review this week with my mental health worker and her boss. They were more interested in the puppies. See, I think it's a very bad sign for me to be cutting myself off and wanting nothing to do with anyone. Isn't it the first stage of having suicidal feelings? Maybe I'm wrong. I'm the only one worried about it. I have an annual review with the psych next month, deep joy.

There was a reunion held recently of folk that I used to work with 30 years ago. I couldn't make myself go. I was so disappointed. One lady had travelled down from Lancs. We used to be very close, but I didn't go.

Well I'm going to say bye now, tch will be home in a minute.

Stay safe peeps xxx

I'd fall for you.

Well, yes, I would. Okay, well I fell over today. In public. Beside a main road. Humiliating or what. Thankfully I wasn't on my own, and tch was able to haul me up again to a more vertical position. I had been so intent on commenting about a lovely old building across the road that I wasn't looking where I was putting my feet... and crash. Or thump morelike. A car even stopped to offer assistance. Warning, beached whale lying on the pavement. I am not sporting the beginnings of two fabulous bruises on my knees. Ouchy.

Christmas came and went. The main day was lovely, just the two of us. Life was manic the next day with all of tch's children and grandchildren coming. We were 21 that day. I had a really really bad stress reaction shortly afterwards. On Boxing Day 26th I was reasonably okay. I could feel my anxiety levels rising and couldn't think straight to accomplish anything. I was trying to make a  few cups of tea and was dropping everything, very shaky. I took myself off upstairs to the quiet and stood with my head out the bedroom window for a few minutes. I find that calms me. There's something about the cold air that helps me. I thought I'd be fine after that, and it seemed that I was. The 26th was Tuesday. On Weds I slept a lot, almost the whole day. Again, not unusual for me as any activity involving people will wear me out with the whole adrenaline thing. During the night I awoke feeling very nauseous and had to rush to the bathroom. I don't know about you but I will do almost anything to avoid being sick. I hate it. That night I must have had 7 or 8 bouts of vomiting. I've never brushed my teeth so many times in one night. I felt truly awful all day Thurs and that night as well. It was Sunday before I could really say I was feeling better. On a positive note, I lost almost a stone. I've put most of it back on now though, I was probably dehydrated.

I know what caused it. Stress and anxiety. I've had it before, many times, but not as bad as this for many years. It was having the family here, plus I took on doing something that tch always does. I was therefore anxious this task went well and was a success, but I don't think it was.

The way I would describe it is to ask you to remember when you watched a scary/exciting film. Think of the part where your heart is in yo.ur mouth, you're on the edge of your seat. Now that feeling will go away shortly afterwards, but imagine if it stayed with you, and you can't stop it getting more intense. It's exhausting. It's a feeling that is hard to communicate to people, because the natural response is for them to tell you to calm down, not to worry about it. This doesn't work when you can't do that.

The last time I had it this bad was 12 years ago. This was a time when I felt that I'd put myself in a position where I simply should not have been there. There wasn't anything to be done about it and I just had to cope with it. I won't bore you with it, long story. The end result was the same though. 2 days later and I was vomiting so much I couldn't stand.

Gradually I am learning about my stress levels and most times I cope with it. This latest one has really been a doozy though.

No, really, I'm okay.

The period of depression from a couple of weeks ago is shifting. I don't know why, but I'm not going to complain about it!

Don't know what really caused it in the first place, I'd been feeling so good and then sliding downwards at an alarming rate. Maybe the down had something to do with being here alone all day. Tch was home for almost 8 weeks in the summer and that was so lovely. When he went back to school I was alone in the daytime.

He's been home again for a week last week, we didn't do very much because his time off is unpaid. Managed a few hours on the beach, that was wonderful. Just the sound of the sea and the smell of ozone is so uplifting for me. My dopey dog had a little run around, attracting lots of attention. She has lost a leg (to cancer) and it seems everyone we meet wants to stop and say hello to her. She loves the attention, proper tart! We didn't go far because she can't walk for long, let alone run, but an hour on the sand and the sea was wonderful.

Now tch is back in school again. It's only Tuesday, but I think I'm okay. Yesterday I did some cleaning, today not quite so good, but okay. The trick is to keep busy, but sometimes it's difficult to do that.

How much easier would it be to know why depression hits? And what to do to make it go away? Million dollar questions!

I've learnt over the years that some foods can induce a depression. Snacks that have a pinky red colouring in them, I don't know the additive name so I can't rule it out in some snacks. Processed foods sometimes contain it. In fact processed foods in general are not good. It's better for me to have a meal cooked with the ingredients bought separately rather than from a jar or frozen. Too much energy drink will do it too. In the past I've had energy drink to try and get myself going, one is fine but any more and the resulting come-down afterwards when it wears off becomes more like a crash-down!

To help me to pull out of a depression: music is good. For me it's something loud and powerful. It could be Bon Jovi or it could be Celine Dion but it's got to blast me, so headphones are good. My first instinct when a depressive episode hits is to go to bed and pull the duvet over my head though. The music thing comes later.

Another thing I've learned, and tch taught me this one, I will decide whether or not something is my responsibility. What I mean is this: Say I am worrying about whether a certain thing will get done. Is it my responsibility? Whose responsibility it is? Well then, leave it to them. The choices other people make are not your responsibility. Honestly, that has made life a lot less worrysome for me. (is worrysome even a word?)

I don't know if these things would be of help to anyone else out there who has depression. All I can say is this is how it is for me, and these are some of the things that help me to kick it. Please, tell me if you know what triggers your depression, and what you do to make things better.

All a bit forgotten and unwanted really.

That title sounds a little pathetic, but it's how I'm feeling at the mo.

Twice, several months ago, I was invited to two separate family celebrations. Both are about 150-180 miles away, so a long way to go considering we always do these visits there and back in one day. Anyway, I saw both sides of the family in August when we were all there for another party. Nobody made mention of either of these upcoming events that I'd been invited to. Now, both have come and gone, and nobody remembered they'd invited me, and I'm feeling very dismal about the whole thing. Why didn't I say something? Well, I left it too long, I think. If I'd said something when we were all together then, yes that would have been fine. To ask about it afterwards, closer to the time, would have seemed like a request, I mean they could hardly say no then.

I have always seen my family to be very small, there's really not many of us at all. Now though, since one has married and there's now another husband and another child, it's getting big enough to be insular. Does that make any sense? When we were only a few, I always had invitations and was up to date, mostly, with what was happening in the family. Now though, they don't need me. I have no life going on, nothing really to talk about and I feel I'm excluded. When you say 'Hi, how are you? What have you been up to?' you really don't want to hear, nothing, stayed in bed a lot, didn't leave the house much.

Don't take too much notice of me, I'm just rambling today, and feeling low. The thing is, the first invitation was from an elderly relative who forgets a lot, so no problem really. The second invitation was from a relative of my own age and was to a first birthday party. I was looking forward to it such a lot, but when I contacted her Mum, she spoke of gifts that were easy to post. So that told me I wasn't going.

I've been spiralling downwards for a couple of weeks now. I put it down mainly to tch going back to school and me therefore being here alone such a lot. He's taken on more hours and is working 5 days a week now, instead of 4. Previously that one day off meant a break in the week, when he would be here and also a possibility that the car was available if I needed to go anywhere. I kid myself when I think I'd drive. I haven't driven for many months, probably more that a year. I used to arrange any medical apts for tch's day off and he'd drive me there. Now he's away the whole week.

Last night I went to bed around 6-7pm and slept right through to 11am. Tch did wake me before he went to work but I went straight back off to sleep again. I really don't want to be here right now.

Everyone has their own life going on. Everyone is busy living their life. Others do not understand what a life like mine means.

Tch comes home really tired and sometimes he's done a supermarket shop on the way home. I am riddled with guilt that I don't do this, nor do I go out to work or earn any money. Am a liability.

Giving it all away

Hello, I'm still here, I hope you're still there too.

On the whole I've been really well, I'm having a bit of a dip now tho. I guess that's why I'm here again. It probably has a lot to do with thc being back in work. He was home for almost 8 weeks and it's dismal to be here alone now. I'd like very much to find a job but I get so anxious over the littlest thing. Need to conquer that first, I think.

The thing that is playing on my mind at the moment is the whole subject of letting go. I came across a Pooh bear the other day. He was sitting in my spare bedroom, just sat there lookin cute. I came to wondering just how long have I had this bear? The answer stunned me a bit - 40 years! I simple can't let go of things. I have drawers and bags of plush toys and suchlike that tch has given me. Every single one of them means something special to me. A job I once had (30 years ago) we had a mascot for the place and I bought a smaller plush one. Not letting that go either, thank you very much.

How does one begin to learn to let go of things?

It doesn't end with the stuffed toys. There are boxes of ornaments etc. in my attic as well. I don't even know what's up there any more, but if you showed me I would say I can't get rid of that!

If it's something I don't like very much, no problem. Thing is, I develop an attachment and then I want to keep it forever. We're gonna need a bigger house!

Seriously though, how can I start to let some of these things go? I shall turn into one of those hoarders you see on the tv. Not good.

Anyway, if you've any ideas on the subject, I'd be very grateful.

Back to depression. I've been really well lately. Since around June really, I'm very pleased. We went away for 5 nights, unheard of for me as I won't go away overnight usually. It was good though, I enjoyed it. This latest downturn is not so good. Perhaps I need to get out of the house a bit more. I had a woman come to assess my needs earlier this week. It was awful having to talk about my depression, out loud, to a stranger, who wrote everything down. Awful. It set me back a bit. Also, my memory is rubbish and I get confused easily, I was expecting her the day before. What a fool. I had to wait another 24 hours and get worked up about it all over again. The interview keeps playing over in my head. I'm trying to make it go away. I'll not hear a result from the interview for a few weeks, so I need to forget about it for a while.

Not a very interesting post, sorry. Not a riveting read.

Still here.

Still here. That's good. I'm pretty sure that's good anyway. Not quite so often am I feeling I'd rather not be here. So, that's good.

I've been out of the house twice this week. Go me! I made it up to stepdaughter's house to see cute grandson on his 7th birthday. Only made it because tch came with, drove me there etc. When there is noise I get so confused. This bothers me a lot because I didn't used to be this way. It makes me feel that I'm somehow getting worse, not better. So I breathed and focused my attention on cute now-7-year-old. What better way to calm down than that? Did it work? Not entirely, but it was lovely to give him the attention and enter his imagination of play.

I cancelled my appointment to see the doctor this week. Couldn't face going out that morning. I didn't know which bus stop to ask for a ticket to (does that make sense?) and tbh I don't care. When I'm depressed I don't care about myself at all, so missing a doctor's apt doesn't matter a bit. Apparently it's because of my thyroid. Yeah, ok, forget that one.

On the subject of not caring about myself much, I've got several gift sets in the cupboard. You know the sort of thing  I mean, a box containing bath treats, body lotion etc. With all of them I put the shower or bath lotions in the shower to be used daily and all the lotions end up going to a charity shop. You see, I'll have a shower but anything further, I just don't care whether my skin gets too dry. I can't be bothered to take the time to put on body lotion. I really wish that I could. I'd love to be one of those ladies with silky soft skin, with a body that's cared for. No, I have a shower and I have a hair style that I just point the hairdryer at because I'm incapable of styling it.

So anyway, going out. I went out today too, to the Ladies Circle. There's only about 6 of us, and I don't think we've managed one week where all six are attending. We all have a mental health condition. It was good to see them, they're lovely ladies. I'm still not sure that I want to continue there though. We went out today, only to the park across the road, but I didn't really want to do this. I like to be somewhere where no-one is likely to talk to me (apart from the ladies, of course).

I really wish I could get over the whole not wanting to go out thing. It's getting worse, not better. Now just thinking about somewhere I must go sends me almost into a panic attack. I don't think I've ever had a full blown panic attack, but this is the closest I've come. I'm hiding from the neighbours again too.

Well it's all a bit doom and gloom really. Sorry about that.

A little wine, perhaps...

Now I don't want to come in here and whine (have you guessed I'm going to?) but I'm not sure how long I can continue doing this. The whole get up in the morning and have a day thing.

The last couple of days it's been so hard just to put one foot in front of the other and climbing stairs is a nightmare. I have no energy, none whatsoever. I see no point in getting out of bed, and am frequently returning there again throughout the day. I really don't want to tell/discuss it with tch because then it becomes a thing, and with that I become a thing to be watched at all times. He knows I'm not well at the mo, and is being very thoughtful. To be honest, what I'd really like is to be left alone. Either to sleep or possibly to lie there composing my last will and testament. All thoughts are despondent and lead downwards to somewhere cold, bleak and dark.

It's not funny really, I just can't help it. Battlefield mentality, that's what it's called, or so I'm told.

It must be awful for anyone to find a dead body. Even if you're in the emergency services it's not right up there as 'Job of the Day' really, is it. Stay at home and your relatives will find you. Not to mention your partner will always remember you died right there. No stains, please.

So you go to a forest; to a hotel; to anywhere else and still Someone will find you. A lot of people would tell me not to care about them, that I'll be long gone be then and won't know anything about it (these people know nothing of my plans for haunting) but that's not me, I care that someone might be tootling along with their day and then, bam! Or squish, depending how long I've been there for.

The same goes for the whole jumping off things idea. Without the mess, or potential loss of life to retrieve a body from water, it's still rubbish. Other methods where there's no body, no death certificate is issued. Very awkward.

And so I carry on, and on. I make myself get up and get through each day. Lately I don't know how to do it, and if I'm starting to fail then I go back to bed again. To lie in the dark and the warm and hope to sleep and make the day go away.

I'm sorry this has been a real downer of an entry. Swings and roundabouts, I suppose. I think the swing came back and hit me in the head.

Gloomy Tunes

Really really naff day today. Was supposed to go out this morning, didn't go. Went back to bed instead. Only been up a couple of hours and going back there again in a mo.

It's like a fog, I can't think straight, can't concentrate on anything, can't seem to accomplish anything. Everything I try to do goes wrong or looks wrong. Definitely doesn't look right anyways. I've said before that it's like wading through soup and it really is. The push needed just to climb the stairs is humungous (is this really a word?).

In respect of doing anything craft related, I've completely lost any mojo I may have thought I had. Haven't made a card in eons (is that how you spell it?) and I think my metal stamping equipment must be gathering dust.

I can reason with myself, I can see that my thinking is flawed. I look on the internet at someone else's metal stamped examples and I can see that some of mine is just as good. Not all of it, let's be realistic. Even so, anything I've tried to do ends up in the bin, I think it's rubbish. I can't do it. I can't do anything. Everything I try is rubbish.

So. If I can reason with myself, why do I still believe my thought process that it's all rubbish? I have no idea. Answers on a postcard, please.

It's a rollercoaster, baby.

That's what life is a little bit like for me at the moment, a rollercoaster. I'd like to say it's a long and exciting ride, but no. Life is this way because of depression. One day is good and I get a lot of housey-type stuff done, the next day is terrible and I don't feel strong enough to hardly walk upstairs, let alone accomplish anything.

Last week I spent a couple of days in bed, needing to completely switch off. I've been having suicidal thoughts too. It's like a plan, lying there in the back of my mind, constantly poking at me. I make plans in my head of how to sort out my business affairs. Few people would miss me. No, really, that's not me being dramatic, I have very little family and tch's family would only really notice the effect upon him. That's been the main reason for not carrying this any further. Tch would be very sad, I know he would, and I can't do that to him.

Anywhere I go, I don't want to be there. No, I tell a lie, we took the dog to the beach the week before last. The weather was so awful there were hardly any other people there. It was lovely. Just me, tch and the dog.

My mental health worker came today. She's very good. She has set up a group of us to meet weekly. I've not been to very many of the meetings though, I stayed at home (as per usual). Some company has offered to do t-shirts for us, free of charge, and I've been putting some ideas together. That stirred me a bit, got my interest.

I would so like to not have to go out at all, well, just for two weeks say. To know that for two weeks I didn't have to go anywhere and could stay here. I hope my anxiety levels would decrease then.

My mental health worker knew I had a suicide plan a while ago. She tried to get me to change things, to get rid of the plan, but I didn't. If I do that, then I won't have a way out. I may not act upon it now, but if something ever happens to tch, if he dies first, then I think I'd need it because then there would be nothing.

Depressing post. Can't even be bothered to read it back through. Hope things are better by next time.

Have to force myself to go out this afternoon. I've already cancelled one appointment today but I need to go to this one. I can't communicate, can't talk properly, I'm getting confused with my words and am afraid I'll look a prat.

It's not for anything major, just a haircut. I know I'll feel better for going because I'm constantly feeling that I'm a mess. They chat a lot tho.

If tch isn't home in half an hour with the car though I'll not be able to go anyway. Do I wish for that so as to stay here? Oh, I just want to go back to my bed and stay there. It's all shit atm.

What a lot of not a lot.

Well, there's not a lot happening at the moment. I'm not leaving the house much at all. I went out on the 6th Nov with tch, then not until the 19th Nov. Tch had been given tickets for the rugby, so I went with him. More about that in a minute. I next went out on 23rd Nov, my metal health worker E took me to a craft morning. With hindsight I really wasn't well enough to have gone there, but I did feel marginally better for going. Stress man. The last time I went out was 26th Nov, I had said we would deliver an old palette to a friend, so I could hardly stay at home really.

That's 4 times I've been out of the house this month. Each time I have to go out I get so anxious beforehand, and will often have a bout of diarrhoea as well. Sometimes just the thought of an event looming will make my insides contract. The worst part is not being able to control this, to have shaky hands, need the bathroom fairly urgently and feel in such a state of panic.

The day we had tickets for the rugby was good in a lot of ways, but oh so stressful in others. It was good simply because I went, and in doing so I achieved a lot of things. I must tell you firstly that I have hurt my foot. It's my heel to be precise, plantar fasciitis. Because of this tch drove as close to the stadium as possible and I got out there. Then I was to find somewhere to wait for him to park the car and walk back* to wherever I was waiting. This meant I would be on my own, in a very very crowded city, until he walked back. He had a terrible job finding somewhere to park, drove round and round finding nothing. He said later that there were a lot of other drivers doing exactly the same thing, and we were two hours early for the match. Eventually he ended up paying £15 to park for 4 hours. Then he had to walk all the way back into the city to me.

I quickly found a Starbucks very close by and ordered/paid for my coffee. Although I was listening for my name, I missed it being called: the place was rammed full of people. By the time I asked about it, it was on the side, almost cold. The girl was lovely and made me another one, but I felt so stupid. Anyway, I have learnt how to deal with being on my own and I found a table in the window where I would see tch when he arrived. By sitting with my back to the room I couldn't see how busy it was, and thus I felt a bit calmer.

About an hour later tch arrived, we had another hot drink and then went to the stadium. Match was wonderful, I've never paid £5 for a burger before, I must be out of touch with what things cost. The walk back to the car was awful, I went slowly and stopped a lot. It would have been no good waiting for tch to drive back towards the stadium and pick me up as nothing was moving. We got back to the car, but it was almost another hour before we got out onto the main road. Total gridlock!!

So. I'm very pleased I went, and on the whole it was a very positive experience. I swear to you that nobody would know how unwell I am. I am very good at doing the sparkly thing. The amount of adrenaline that this takes is huge and I'm very tired afterwards. Why is it so important to do this? Why do I want to hide my mental health condition so much? I think maybe it's less stressful if people don't know. Does that make any sense at all?

 I was supposed to be going out today, to the craft thing again. Made an excuse, couldn't cope with it. There will be other days, I'll go another day. Just want to stay at home and sleep a lot.

The importance of a little bit of peace.

We are all speeding through our days, life has us on the fast track whether we want it or not.

My life is generally at a very slow pace but that fast track is all relative. Often it feels as though everything is moving too fast for me. I am not well enough to work at the moment but still life can get on top of me. I've not been well just lately (depression) and today makes 9 days that I've not been out of the house. I can't cope with people and the smallest thing has me confused. Tomorrow though I plan to go out. My mental health worker is going to give me a lift to a craft class. I really don't want to go, because I would just rather stay here on my own. It's better that way. I've said I'll go anyway.

Tch is in the process of making me a little patio area where I can sit and not be overlooked by anyone. It's not finished yet but this morning I sat out there with a coffee. It's amazing the difference to sit there instead of in the house, apart from the cold that is! No-one can see me, and so no-one will make an attempt to say hello or start a conversation. My neighbours are lovely but I don't want to talk to anyone. Sitting there, with the birds singing, was magical.

We all need that little bit of calm in our lives. Even if you have a crap life like mine, there is still stress in there somewhere. As soon as I replied to the text this morning, to say I would go out tomorrow, my insides started doing somersaults and since then I've had a runny bum. Sorry, too much info? Even thinking about it now makes me feel weak. The trouble is, once I go out for one thing, like the craft lesson tomorrow, one of the girls will suggest we do something else. Something like the cinema or getting together for a coffee. The way I am at the moment I just cant cope with that, and I don't want to give offence by saying no.

Where is your little bit of peace? What is it for? e.g. yoga, meditation or simply sitting and relaxing, like me.

This is my little bit of peace. The garden's a bit of a mess but the view is lovely. Btw, do you like my pallet? I made it from an old coffee table.

Let me bear all...

What was the first teddy bear/doll or other object that you loved as a child?

Mine was a bear, Little Ted to be precise. He was very much worse for wear, his body was held together by one of my Grandad's handkerchiefs and all his limbs were just straggly bits of fur fabric. He was very small, but then, so was I. There was a family member who used to poke fun at him and threaten to throw him away. I was scared about this at the time, but I doubt she really meant it. Sadly he didn't last very long, his 'injuries' were too severe.

Then when I was in junior school one of the girls had two teddies, in different colours and she gave one to me. This sticks in my mind so much because she gave it to me for no reason other than that she wanted to. My Grandad picked me up from school that day and he saw it when we were walking home. Lots of questions about how I came by it, and I think the parents were later contacted as well. Now I felt guilty, so many questions had made me feel that I shouldn't have it, that it was wrong. I spent most of my home life scared that I'd done something wrong because he was so strict. Always a fierce and accusing face.

It was fine though, and I kept the bear. I think the pupil who gave it to me emigrated, but I still think of her gift and how she made me feel that I was liked.

Was this the reason I became so attached to the bear? He came everywhere with me, wherever I went. I named him Cuddly, and cuddle him I did! I cuddled him so much that he went almost completely flat. His limbs had hardly any stuffing in the main arm/leg, it was all compressed into hard pads in the ends. He had hardly any nose left, I was almost all kissed away. I wasn't happy in my childhood, and I think this little bear was my friend through it. 

So, what makes us choose the toy that we love the most? For me I think it was because of the kindness shown from another little girl, in the gift of the bear. I think there's usually an association involved of some sort, with either a person, a place or a time.

How long did you stick with a beloved toy? I had Cuddly from about 6yrs old and he was with me for years and years. Today though, a child will have a toy, say one from a Disney film, and hug it and love it but only for a short while. They move on to the next one whilst the first toy is left sitting aside. Is this because of the amount of different toys that there are now? Today's child will probably have much more in the way of toys than we had when I was small. Maybe that's why they don't stay with one, that it's forgotten so quickly.

When I was in my 20s and my then boyfriend was moving in with me, he persuaded me to give loads of stuff to a charity shop. Yes, the bear went. I seriously doubt the charity shop would have wanted him so he probably ended up in a bin somewhere. I've regretted that ever since. That little bear got me through some tough years, I'd have preferred to know he was tucked away in a drawer somewhere.

A little learnt about the limbic system.

I've been looking and learning a little about the limbic system with regards to how it may affect depression.

The limbic system is the part of the brain that controls your 'fight, flight or freeze' reaction and it develops very early in childhood. Therefore the very early experiences, sometimes as young as a baby, will help to formulate reaction and have a huge impact on later life.

I've been relating this to my own early experiences, and I believe they have had an impact on my developing depression from adolescence.

My father died 2 months before I was born. Now in those days the mother was kept in hospital for up to a week. My mother knew he had an inoperable brain tumour and so knew he was going to die soon. It's as well to point out at this stage that the baby in the womb would experience the hormonal changes and other chemicals via the placenta. Some people say the baby experiences the emotion as well, I'm not so sure about that. Anyway, my mother knew he was going to die, and then he died 2 months before my birth. She's in hospital with a tiny baby, grieving and no doubt wondering how she was going to manage. Then imagine further, all the fathers arrive at visiting time... that must have been so tough for her.

So eventually she is sent home and she copes with me on her own for about a year. Still grieving for my father. Already the prevalent emotion around me is one of sadness, depression and grief.

I was about 18 months old when she began to show signs of ill health. Headaches mainly, I think. My aunty has since told me that their family doctor said my mother was having a nervous breakdown and was imagining she had my father's symptoms. He told them the best way to deal with this was to 'snap her out of it'. Aunty said she went into my mother's bedroom one day where I was hanging onto the sides of my cot and screaming my lungs out, needing my nappy changed. My mother was lying on the bed, not responding. "Come on", she said, "that baby needs you! Get up off the bed right now!" Aunty said that day haunted her for years and she never really forgave herself for attempting to 'snap her out of it'.

I don't know how long it was until someone took her seriously, because she too had a brain tumour, an inoperable one. The headaches were real, and she was dying. Towards the end she went into a nursing home not far from home. In 2016 we would talk about this to the child, be supportive and include her where possible. This was the 1960s though, where I should be seen but not heard. A child then had no rights. From my perspective my mother didn't want to respond to me and then just disappeared one day, never to return.

I can't begin to imagine the emotions that would have been surrounding me then. Adults crying and I wouldn't have known why. So, the limbic system in my brain is developing surrounded by sadness, loneliness and grief. Here then, I believe, is the start of my depression. So much sadness that sadness becomes the way to be. It is a way of life.

From that time I was brought up by grandparents. My grandad was very strict, and made decisions based on what he thought best.

I think that's best left for another day though.

Yeth, and I'm only thixteen...

Sorry about the title, it's only going to mean anything if you are over 45 and used to watch a certain vet's comedy (in the UK). Well why the title? I have increasingly felt that having a mental health condition equates with having all of one's brain cells euthanised, or at the very least, dopificated. Okay, I made that last bit up. It's true though, I have been spoken down to in a condescending fashion so many tims.

Yes, when I am very low I can get confused. When I'm depressed I'm almost always tired as well, this adds to my confusion. Also, my memory is dreadful and I forget the simplest of things directly after being told. But, I have not been rendered stupid! I recall having to attend an interview to justify my ill health and my need for sickness benefit. During the interview I passed some comment, I can't remember exactly what I said, and the interviewer did a cartoon-like double-take. It was as if she'd caught me out for still having a brain. This from a presumably qualified person. Words fail me. Actually words did indeed fail me on this occasion, I kept my mouth shut as much as possible for the remainder of the interview.

When I first started taking lithium I had the first prescription from the psychiatrist, so it was a month after it was prescribed that I requested a repeat script from my gp surgery. They told me over the phone that they had no knowledge of this and had not received any correspondence from the psych about it. On ringing the psych's secretary, yes they had written to the gp so they should know all about it.

This type of thing has happened on several occasions over the last few years. If I didn't have the wherewithall to sort it out, what the hell would have happened to me? That morning of the lithium thing, I stressed and cried and thought about giving up, not taking it at all being as no-one would give it to me. I knew I shouldn't stop taking it, that it was a drug to come off slowly, gradually reducing the amount. In the end I wrote down who to phone and what to say. I thought if I can't do it then I'll ask tch to do it for me. Eventually the letter was faxed to the surgery and they raised a script for me. Even that sounds simple but it wasn't. It was numerous phone calls, get down to the surgery, wait for the script, go to the pharmacy, wait for the drugs, get back home... collapse.

I really cannot stress this enough. If I did not have the power of mind and speech to sort these things out, where would I be?? I know a lady with a worse mental health disorder, she would in no way be able to deal with a situation like this. What would become of her? I am so very lucky to have my husband's help if I need it, this lady has no partner. In this particular event there was very little help offered by the healthcare professionals. Whist I understand that my problem was not expected and their workload already full, I'm still here and still had the problem.

Everywhere we go these days those who are working are stretched to capacity. Back when I was last in a job we were assessed every day. We had to complete a form daily, being allowed a set amount of time for each task. That's something lik 3.48 minutes for this and 12.55 minutes for that. Crazy. All of my daily minutes against my working hours for that day gave the result showing how much % of the day I had been working. If I didn't achieve at least 98% over a month I would be given a warning, another month and my pay would be docked. I'm quite sure my employers weren't the only ones adopting this practice. Is it any wonder then that there is no time for unexpected problems to show up? Then when those more vulnerable need help with something, often the person on the end of the phone just wants them gone, they haven't got time for this! Some of the time I am one of the more vulnerable, but thankfully when my depression is not so bad, I can deal with things. It's those others though, who's looking after them?

Have you had an experience like this? Tell me about it, please.