Here's the Thing

Monday, 5 July 2010

Flirting with inertia

I feel lethargic. Stuck in the vacuous cavern of my own melancholia. I sleep and I am restless, I move to try to focus and achieve an activity, for work, or play, and I want to curl up and sleep.

A restless existence that flirts with its own inertia. Constantly tidal waved by thoughts of my own decline and descent into madness, thoughts of death and how to get there and thoughts of what can be done to stop myself from swimming constantly against the tide.

I have tried to do all the things you are meant to do. I told my psych when I last saw them. I told my GP when I last saw them. I have informed HR and my boss. I have tried, and failed, on numerous occasions to call a crisis line. I have no voice for them. There is nothing but a gaping hole of a wound to my soul that I can find no band aid big enough for.

I am fast running out of fight. I know this, as I have been in this puddle of low before. I know the routine and run-of-the-mill stages of my own depression. Yet I can do nothing to stop it but watch and hold on for the ride.

I know that if this time round I reach the stage where I am taken to hospital, like last time. I want to be properly admitted. I only know this, because it is the one thing I walked away from last time, that I wish I had not. Maybe it seems odd to some people. Why would I want to be admitted to a proper ward. Simple. I want it recorded, I want it taken seriously. I do not want it brushed aside as an impulsive act or moment of indecision. Frankly, I spend so much of my life pondering ways of killing myself, it would be nice for the health profession to put as much thought into ways of helping.

I will stop now, or I will end up ranting, or crying, or both.

I just needed to write something. While it was here in my mind.


  1. Don't run out of fight! Or even better, stop thinking of it as one.

    Everytime I come to this blog I am struck by the beauty of your lush green header, and how much peace I instantly derive from that calm, natural scene... I can't tell you how to feel better (I really hope you do soon!) but there is always something that will - and it might just mean looking at something in a different way.

  2. It is one of the things that is often found with depression - It can screw with your perspective.

    I have to view it as a fight. That calm, lush header is a stable me. Currently, I am not stable. Imagine that header with a storm going on. The water is rushed and pressing against the rocks in heavy claps and turning to try to push past. The leaves are furrowed and pushed by the wind and rain topples ceaselessly. That new header, is where my moods are now.

    There is a part of me that is sat in that storm, wishing it would go away and fighting to hold an umbrella up, despite the heaving rain and wind to keep dry and calm. That part of me fights against the part that would say: sodd this, release the umbrella to the wind and dive in the pool of water to be swept away and never again found.

    I am not sure if that makes sense, but it is how it feels. I know perspective is important. I also know that I do have some fantastic things in my life. I do not deny them. The storm happens around them, irrespective of their presence.