A pause button for life would be nice. So I can catch my breath.
The chances of that are about zero to none. So small moments are small victories. And maybe one day they will all add up to overcoming this black cloud. Depression tells me lots of things.
"You are not worthy of anything or anyone. You are a terrible mother. You are a terrible partner. A terrible daughter and sister. You are a hopeless, pathetic friend. You are dependant and needy. You will never be any good. Your life sucks. You have no friends. No one likes you. You have no future. You should just jump off that cliff now. No one will care."
And the worse thing is you believe it, despite evidence to the contrary. My logical brain and depressive brain battle it out on the daily. Then add in my anxious, panicky brain Fred, and basically I am screwed.
I think one of the challenging things about this mental illness caper, is how utterly self absorbed I feel. It makes me loathe myself even more. "Hi there, my name is Léyanie, let me enlightened you with my depressive tales of woe". Complete and utter twat territory. So then I am down on myself for calling myself a twat and the perpetual cycle continues. I don't want to be around me, why would anyone else want to?
Writing this blog is even fraught with complication. Why broadcast all this crap publicly? I feel like the unspoken societal rules want me keep it to myself. "Hey you, quietly battle the black dog over there in the corner, stop making so much noise about it and come back when you start behaving like a regular, normal human". But maybe that's the depression talking, yet I can't help but feel like there is a semblance of truth to the sentiment. The stigma of mental health feels ever present. I ask myself frequently "Why can't you just get over yourself?". But it's a whole lot more complicated than that. I wish it were simple, but it is hard work and sometimes you just want to go to bed and hide under your blankets. That's not really an option for me.
Anyway, routine in a way gets me through and in a way frustrates me too. I like knowing what I am doing ahead of time, so I can do a mental mind map of situations. Including how to hold back the tide of a panic attack, which is not always successful. In the grand scheme of things, this whole process is like a forced transformation. I can't keep ignoring my self care, I have to make time for myself and push myself to change up my routines. So I started jogging. Not every day but a few times a week for about 20 to 30 minutes. And not jogging the whole time, I would be dead if I done that. Fitness has never been my strong point, but jogging has helped burn off some of that nervous, anxious energy. Who knows maybe I will start doing the park run thing or maybe a half marathon, maybe I will get super fit and run all the marathons. Highly unlikely. I know my mental health feels like it has been running a marathon for 6 months though. In reality it has probably been quite a bit longer than that, either way, it needs a break. In a way while I am out there jogging, feeling like I am dying and struggling to breathe, it is that which is giving my mind a chance to catch its breath and heal.
The chances of that are about zero to none. So small moments are small victories. And maybe one day they will all add up to overcoming this black cloud. Depression tells me lots of things.
"You are not worthy of anything or anyone. You are a terrible mother. You are a terrible partner. A terrible daughter and sister. You are a hopeless, pathetic friend. You are dependant and needy. You will never be any good. Your life sucks. You have no friends. No one likes you. You have no future. You should just jump off that cliff now. No one will care."
And the worse thing is you believe it, despite evidence to the contrary. My logical brain and depressive brain battle it out on the daily. Then add in my anxious, panicky brain Fred, and basically I am screwed.
I think one of the challenging things about this mental illness caper, is how utterly self absorbed I feel. It makes me loathe myself even more. "Hi there, my name is Léyanie, let me enlightened you with my depressive tales of woe". Complete and utter twat territory. So then I am down on myself for calling myself a twat and the perpetual cycle continues. I don't want to be around me, why would anyone else want to?
Writing this blog is even fraught with complication. Why broadcast all this crap publicly? I feel like the unspoken societal rules want me keep it to myself. "Hey you, quietly battle the black dog over there in the corner, stop making so much noise about it and come back when you start behaving like a regular, normal human". But maybe that's the depression talking, yet I can't help but feel like there is a semblance of truth to the sentiment. The stigma of mental health feels ever present. I ask myself frequently "Why can't you just get over yourself?". But it's a whole lot more complicated than that. I wish it were simple, but it is hard work and sometimes you just want to go to bed and hide under your blankets. That's not really an option for me.
Anyway, routine in a way gets me through and in a way frustrates me too. I like knowing what I am doing ahead of time, so I can do a mental mind map of situations. Including how to hold back the tide of a panic attack, which is not always successful. In the grand scheme of things, this whole process is like a forced transformation. I can't keep ignoring my self care, I have to make time for myself and push myself to change up my routines. So I started jogging. Not every day but a few times a week for about 20 to 30 minutes. And not jogging the whole time, I would be dead if I done that. Fitness has never been my strong point, but jogging has helped burn off some of that nervous, anxious energy. Who knows maybe I will start doing the park run thing or maybe a half marathon, maybe I will get super fit and run all the marathons. Highly unlikely. I know my mental health feels like it has been running a marathon for 6 months though. In reality it has probably been quite a bit longer than that, either way, it needs a break. In a way while I am out there jogging, feeling like I am dying and struggling to breathe, it is that which is giving my mind a chance to catch its breath and heal.
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