…in the garden of stability!
Bear with me, folks. I’m a writer: we like metaphors and allegory and all that jazz. The only alternative name for this blog was “Bugger it…I’m depressed”. I’m going with the garden rake in the face, that way I can add in such phrases as: “Lately there have been a few weeds of discontent creeping into my garden”. Or perhaps not. Ahem…
Until this past month, I’ve been doing pretty well for me. Moodwise, I’ve never been the most stable and I’m pretty sure I was in a depressed state for at least half my marriage. Even in the past year and a half, since meeting Lovely Boyfriend, I’ve had down days sprinkled liberally throughout. They generally centre around money (or lack of) or my impending divorce (or lack of progress with).
With BPD, the depressed days can generally be linked to something tangible. Negative things happening, be they big or pretty insignificant in the run of things, lead to negative thoughts and negative mood. Sometimes, however, it’s depression. Pure and simple and a right pain in the arse.
The more observant of you will note that I’m writing this at around 4 in the morning. Those of you who know me personally will also be aware that Lovely Boyfriend came home last night from his 2-week offshore stint. So why am I sitting on the sofa writing my blog, rather than curled up in bed with him? Because, bugger it…I’m depressed.
It’s been coming on over the past couple of weeks and I’m certain it IS tied to events. Events now include a “Limited Capability for Work” medical questionnaire; a form guaranteed to send anyone with mental health problems into a state of panic and despondency. That was the rake in the face yesterday.
But I’m also noticing other things, pointing me towards a proper, un-fun bout of depression. My emotions are starting to disappear on me, for one. I hope other people understand what that means (otherwise I fear I’m simply going mad *grin*). I mean an inability to feel a sense of achievement over my writing this week. A sense of melancholy overriding happiness at having Lovely Boyfriend home. A certain unwillingness to lift my head off the pillows in the mornings (obviously not a problem today!).
Hopefully the problems will pass as the situations pass, but I’m writing this blog to point out that depression happens, even to the most self-aware of us with BPD. And it’s OK to admit it. And it doesn’t mean I’ve failed at anything and can’t cope with life; admitting the problem should prove I’m coping a heck of a lot better than 5 years ago!
I’m not sure how to end this blog today. Normally I manage a pithy comment but my pithiness appears to be switched off at this time of morning. Although, on a more positive note, getting up and writing about how I’m feeling rather than lying in bed with tears in my eyes, helps. Yes, even in the midst of my moody blues, I’m advocating Behavioural Activation (a.k.a. Get off your arse and DO something therapy).