I have been thinking recently about how I coped with events in my life recently. To recap briefly. I am a chronic depressive, I have been on Ads on and off (mostly on) since DD was born 14 years ago. I have in the past made attempts to come off them but always end up worse than before. The latest attempt was summer 2011 – thought I was doing OK but during the winter I found myself spiralling out of control and this ended with standing on a m-way bridge for about an hour trying to pluck up courage to jump. I pulled myself up by my bootstraps, started running again, changed my diet, went to see my GP and asked for Ads again (I HATED that!).
All this time H was, in my memory at least, totally unsupportive and just kept telling me to ‘see the GP’. He says he didn’t know what else to do...maybe, I guess living with a depressive is pretty dreadful. Anyway I was just beginning to get back to normality when I began to have suspicions about H and a co-worker. These turned out to be well-founded. He was in an affair for 6 months that ended when I found out. I think he was sleep-walking into it, enjoying the ego-boost and all the feel-good stuff, and it took my rage and pain to snap him out of it.
The thing is I have looked back on the first year after I found out and I have realised something. I was locked up in a little box in my head, or perhaps more like a cocoon that I was growing and healing inside. Things hurt too much. I couldn’t listen to gentle music or love songs, I only liked loud angry music. I lost the ability to concentrate on books – I have always been an avid reader but I couldn’t cope with them at this stage in my life. I used to listen to podcasts - preferably violent horror stories or sci-fi, nothing that allowed me to think. I couldn’t (still can’t) watch TV as I can’t concentrate long enough. I used to walk and walk and walk with my dog, listening to my scary stories. I became less patient and other people’s problems bored me. Even my kids irritated me. I turned into a totally different person. I am slowly emerging from this. I am still cautious and wary, I still feel a bit cauterized from my feelings, I still find myself checking my responses to people and events to see if they are normal.
I came out of this feeling emotionally bruised. I still get angry. I still cry. I still feel worthless at times though I am working on it. It was like depression but not quite the same. I honestly feel that if I had been allowed to live on a desert island I’d have been happy and healthy. I feel as if I have been convalescing from a serious illness.
Anyone able to relate?