Wasn’t really feeling it again this morning. Since the Mother-In-Law, Sister-In-Law and nephew were due from the north east of Scotland, The Mrs had made me and The Boy work on tidying the house and generally cleaning up.
OK, I will admit it was needed. The house can become a tip with an 8 year old, one adult with depression and another on with acute fatigue syndrome. And two cats. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get stressed and start to dive a little.
So I did.
You know what helped? Being dragged out of the house for a couple of hours. We went into town, dropped something at the post office, called in at Boots and then went to Burger King (I had the Angus Burger – probably the most expensive thing on the menu, but it actually tastes of something, unlike the sort of thing you get at Maccy D’s, washed down with Dr Pepper).
When we got home, I was feeling less down. Got sat down and relaxed… and started to dive again.
Took The Boy for his swimming lesson (so got me out of the house again), and in that hour, having read a couple of issues of X-Men: Gold whilst he was in the water, I’d pretty much recovered my equilibrium, despite the impending arrival.
It’s pretty much bedtime now, and I’m feeling OK. Not brilliant, but somewhat relieved that everything went OK in the end. Amazing what a difference just getting out of the house and having something to do makes.
His depression finally managed to get past his last defences and managed to do the same thing to him that it had done to Chris Cornell, Robin Williams and hundreds of other people across the world. It’s tragedy.
But you know what’s worse? Especially for those of us who are, right at this moment, very much aware that one day, that could be us? The whole “he was selfish” narrative.
No. Let’s just end that here. No. Definitely not. No matter what they say, these people have never, ever had even an hour of REAL depression in their lives. For which they should be eternally grateful.
Depression is that constant companion whispering in your ear so it gets into your subconscious. It tells you that you’re not worth it. That your friends aren’t really your friends, they’re just taking pity on you. You don’t really matter to them at all. It will also attempt to convince you that your family would be better off it you weren’t there anymore. They’d be better still if you were dead. Then they wouldn’t have to worry about you coming back and fucking up their lives yet again.
Another thing I get sick of hearing is “why didn’t they get help?”
Part of going really deep into depression is that you believe that there is no help for you. It doesn’t even occur to you to try and get it because you don’t actually think there’s anything wrong with you. Looking back, before I started getting treatment, I said and did some awful things to various people for literally just being somewhere I didn’t want them to be.
We need to have friends who will stick by us. People who will be there to drag us out of the house and just be there to make sure we don’t do anything stupid in the guise of making everyone’s life better. We won’t ask for help. You’ll never know how badly a person with depression is because we’re experts at hiding it from the outside world. We don’t want to burden anyone else with our problems.
Sorry friends and loved ones. It’s down to you. You’ll have to push us to get help. Don’t stop until the treatment is underway and keep pushing. We may not think we’re worth the hassle, but so long as there’s someone there to care enough, we might just get through this.
Maybe that’s what’s affecting my libido. I actually went to have a look on Brazzers today. Bloody waste of time. Nothing of interest in the last few days. That’s how I know that my sexual interest has nosedived. There’s usually something to at least be the slightest bit interested in. Not even Brooklyn Chase (who, as far as I’m concerned, is right up there with Chanel Preston, Monique Alexander, Kiki Minaj and Jesse Jane) could raise anything at all.
Definitely tired. Brain wandered off at a huge tangent.