I know it’s been a while, but I’ve been waiting.
My therapist suggested that “this be our last session” a while ago. She was a damned good therapist, as I might have mentioned before. It got to the point when I quite enjoyed attending, even if the anxiety did niggle and nip at times. Anyway, since then I’ve waited. And waited. I been keeping an eye out for the improvement that comes after talking out your issues to a professional. I wanted to share it with you all.
Nothing. Nothing has changed.
I’m stood in a silent forest, poised to pounce, my senses stretched to their furthest end for the sound of rustling improvement, the fleeting shadow of sanity to dart from tree to tree. But there’s only that old whispering wind.
The same issues roll around and around in the perpetual motion machine that drives me. Anxiety, loneliness, self hatred, guilt, loss, futility; all cogs with gnashing teeth, Depression providing the power. My writing is completely at the whim of this machine. Flashes of inspiration come, only to be lost in a smog cloud of apathy, a sense of futility fuelled by some kind of impostor syndrome.
That’s why there have been no posts. What do I write?
This blog was supposed to be about showing you all what it’s really like to live with depression. Day-to-day. And, frankly, I don’t think I have anything to say. I don’t have anything new to share, any insights. I’m still the same. In a couple of weeks it’ll be a year since I walked away from the job that broke me, and what’s changed?
Am I happier? No.
Has the depression stopped, the anxiety alleviated? Nope. If anything, the anxiety is worse. I was watching a film last night, a tense thriller-style affair (it was pretty good, despite what I’m about to reveal), and basically had that lead bullet feeling lodged between my lungs. I can’t even watch a damned film anymore!
Am I managing my Down Days better? I don’t think so. I think I’m more aware of them, but I’m definitely not having less. If anything, I think I have more, but they’re of a lower level. I can feel it every day, like moss underfoot, rather than the boulder-climbing it used to be. Is that an improvement or not? I’m not sure. I only ever see myself through a prism, distorted, and others see me through their own. I can’t step outside myself to see what’s going on, and others can’t step inside. We’re all half-blind.
Anyway, that’s why the posts have been few. For that, and to the three or four people who read them, I apologise. I’ll try to do better.
I’ve actually been thinking about sharing some of my utterly shit poetry in an attempt to fill the gaps. They really are rubbish, but there might be something in the phrasing, the wording, worth reading. I’ll keep thinking about it as the idea still makes me incredibly nervous.
Anyway, apologies again, for a pretty down post. I’ll try to gain some insight of interest for next time.
Thanks for reading.