I still don’t consider myself as an actual sufferer or have ever suffered from PND. I was always stood on the edge of the volcano; fully aware of the threat of something all consuming that could be unleashed at any moment but never thinking it would be me that would get hit. This could be because I am either a) in denial or b) hate being labelled.
However, when I read through this list of possible symptoms, I can say “yup, that’s me,” “yup, defo thought that before,” “yup, sounds like something I’d do,” to probably 70% of the list. So I suppose I am a) and b).
It’s the self talk that gives it away. It’s uncompromising and unforgiving. Someone once said to me, “the things you say to yourself, would you ever say them to a friend?” I would have absolutely no friends if I said the same hurtful, soul-destroying and downright rude words I often chide myself with.
I came across this a little while back. It’s from a mum that posted a Happy Medium Monday story and so many of it resonated with me. The disappointment in myself for being back at the edge of the volcano and the hypocrisy in being able to say reassuring words of wisdom to others in need, but never kind enough to say them to myself. You can read more posts from this Mum and her battle with PND on her blog Mummykindness. It’s well worth a visit but in the meantime….
Be Gone Black Dog
Looking back I could feel it coming.
Starting with a familiar sinking stomach feeling and slight panic for no apparent reason. Anxious.
Feeling like I want to be on my own. Like I need to escape. Like I just need some quiet. Like I just want to sleep for days until hopefully it passes.
Feeling like crying. But there’s nothing to cry about.
Feeling trapped in my head.
Such disappointment. So very disappointed with myself for finding myself here again.
I’d been doing so well.
Grateful for P keeping the kids busy so I can be by myself, but feeling incredibly guilty that he has to do this.
Feeling like I’m spoiling everyone’s weekend.
Thinking that surely he can’t wait to get to work to get away from me.
Bringing everyone down.
Trying to remind myself that this is an illness. That I can’t help it. That it’s chemical.
Makes no difference whatsoever.
Going to bed. P says the wrong thing.
Crying. So much crying. Can’t stop crying and can’t cry enough.
Want to scream in to a pillow.
Considering going downstairs and literally screaming into a cushion.
Too exhausted to move.
Feeling like a total fraud.
Writing about kindness to ourselves and recovery from depression?
Sharing tips on how to be grateful and overcome negativity?
I don’t want to be here again. I can’t be this person again. This burden.
Can’t stop crying. Trying to calm my breathing. Closing my eyes but the tears keep coming. Trying to sleep but the tears keep streaming.
So very disappointed.
Can’t turn these thoughts off. Where’s the off switch?
Will this ever go away?
Trying to remember: It’s always darkest before dawn.
It’s the cracks that let the light in.
Tomorrow is another day.
This too shall pass.