Saturday, 29 June 2013


Thursday was the school's performance of Oliver.  This was the same day I was admitted to the clinic.  I had spent most, if not all, of the day in tears.  Not for any good reason only that mostly I just wanted to die and couldn't.

My son had a role in the chorus so it wasn't like I was going to be missing his lead performance.  But for him, being in the chorus was a big deal.  It was one of those moment that I looked into the future and could see him telling his therapist in 20 years time how his mother was so ill with depression all the time that she couldn't even come see his breakthrough stage performance.

Suitably tranquilised and against doctor's orders, I made my way to the theatre.  My daughter had planned her own special little party.  Laden with a vast quantity of sweets with her best friend in the seat next to her, we all sat down and watched the tremendous performance unfold before us.

The interval was excruciating.  When one is depressed, one wants nothing more than to be invisible.  I didn't have the energy, the courage, or the desire to talk to any one, even the people who love me more than their luggage.  Luckily, those people understood that.  I was given some soul engaging hugs and hand squeezes.  I was given encouraging winks and nods.  My efforts to keep my head down and my gaze averted did draw numerous stares but those seemed to unsettle my husband more than me.  You can't see what you can't see.

Back in the clinic, my night's sleep was interrupted continuously with nightmares of people crushing me, sitting on me, pushing me, suffocating me.  I yelled out numerous time.  By 5 am I had given up on the idea of restful sleep and started the morning off with a good long cry.

I've managed a shower today.  I managed to go to the art class.  I have eaten all three meals today.

My back pain is being alleviated by anti inflammatory and pain meds.  My whole body itches and I keep scratching until I bleed.  This is probably anxiety related.  The anti depressants haven't kicked in yet but they will soon.  I hope.

What I can tell you is that the outpouring of support and love is overwhelming.  Don't take this the wrong way and sufferers of mental illness will understand, it doesn't really help but it is nice to have.  I really appreciate the flowers, the chocolate, the biscuits, the STRAWBERRY shower gel, and the words of encouragement and motivation.  I am most grateful for the unconditional love.  Thank you.  You know who you are.  xxxx

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