First I must apologise that the next instalment in Tackling the Mental Health Minefield hasn't been published yet but I'm feeling a bit low and writing the posts can be a bit of a drain on my resources. I promise that it will be out there for you to read tomorrow.
I am at my lowest ebb since I left hospital. It's not a sudden thing; it has been developing over a week or more but it is starting to be difficult for me to stop the sad feelings from overwhelming me. This time I am well aware what is causing me to go downhill and that thing is Christmas.
Every time that I switch on the television there is something about Christmas. If it's not advertising something to eat or drink over the festive season, it's suggestions of what you should buy as a present for your nearest and dearest, or what will be shown on television at Christmas.
This is all fine if you enjoy Christmas, but for those who are alone it can be a horrible time of year. It's just another day for me and one that I would rather sleep through so that I don't have to endure facing on my own again what is a time for family.
Tomorrow I am off to see the psychologist again and I am sure that he will be able to tell that I am feeling down just by looking at me. That means that it will probably form part of tomorrow's session and tomorrow afternoon will see me looking and feeling as though I have been put through a wringer.
Showing posts with label loneliness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loneliness. Show all posts
Monday, 14 December 2009
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
I Will Not Panic; I Will Not Get Anxious
In less than 48 hours I will be setting off for my last psychotherapy session. I have often written on this blog how difficult I find it during the days before each session, though at the moment I am quite calm. But Friday morning may be a slightly different matter.
The termination of psychotherapy should mean the end of my sleepless Thursday nights but it also means the end of the one routine item in my otherwise empty life. Friday mornings have meant a regular opportunity to talk to another human being, and most importantly to be able to talk to someone who genuinely wants to know how I am rather than the question just being a platitude.
Yes, I have a couple of friends with whom I correspond by email on a daily basis, and both of them (and they know who they are) do much to encourage me and to help me get through my dark periods. But they are both many miles away and so actually seeing them and talking face to face is a rare thing.
I am telling myself that the psychotherapy has made a difference to me. It has helped me to see that it is not my fault that I am ill, that I am not responsible for how I feel, that things in my past have made it difficult for me to deal with how I am today. Medication helps with the panic and the anxiety, but it does not help with the loneliness and the empty feelings. Talking has helped with them, but I now have to see if I can cope with them on my own. And that is the most difficult part of depression to deal with; the isolation and emptiness. The end of therapy feels like I am being abandoned yet again.
The termination of psychotherapy should mean the end of my sleepless Thursday nights but it also means the end of the one routine item in my otherwise empty life. Friday mornings have meant a regular opportunity to talk to another human being, and most importantly to be able to talk to someone who genuinely wants to know how I am rather than the question just being a platitude.
Yes, I have a couple of friends with whom I correspond by email on a daily basis, and both of them (and they know who they are) do much to encourage me and to help me get through my dark periods. But they are both many miles away and so actually seeing them and talking face to face is a rare thing.
I am telling myself that the psychotherapy has made a difference to me. It has helped me to see that it is not my fault that I am ill, that I am not responsible for how I feel, that things in my past have made it difficult for me to deal with how I am today. Medication helps with the panic and the anxiety, but it does not help with the loneliness and the empty feelings. Talking has helped with them, but I now have to see if I can cope with them on my own. And that is the most difficult part of depression to deal with; the isolation and emptiness. The end of therapy feels like I am being abandoned yet again.
Friday, 6 March 2009
Psychotherapy And Lunch
Friday, psychotherapy day, and I was awake long before dawn. For the last few days I haven't been able to stop sleeping, night or day, and yet last night sleep was something that was difficult to come by. But no matter, because I knew that today should be easy enough to get through.
As usual, my mind and tongue seemed to lack the ability to work together. I knew that I could, in fact I should, start the session by talking and yet it seemed so difficult to actually achieve. And then, after a super-human effort I managed it. I started to talk about how I was sorry that I hadn't had a session last Friday for it would have been nice to talk to someone about how my lecture had gone the day before.
Having got started, having made that extreme effort, the session seemed to go quite well. There were moments that were difficult, when tears flowed easily, when I had to admit to wanting things that I knew that I couldn't have, things that were impossible, but as we moved on and talked of other things the tears stopped and I started to feel almost calm. I talked about the adrenalin high that I experienced for about 48 hours after the lecture and seminar, and how my life seemed to tumble into the abyss again once this period was gone.
Talking about it this morning I realized just how disappointing it was not to have someone who I could talk to about the event immediately afterwards. Yes, I blogged about it, and you were kind and sent me lots of lovely comments, but it's just not the same as having someone there who you can talk to about it and who can ask you questions and who can feel the same sense of achievement as you have felt over the experience.
When the session was over I left the hospital to catch a bus; not home but into the centre of London. I was meeting Mr Smiley for lunch and just for a change he was early. Mr Smiley operates on a different time-scale to the rest of us; we call it Smiley Time. Lunch was great, and we had a long chat covering all sorts of things. All too soon it was time to leave and we went our separate ways.
It was only when I got home this afternoon that I realized that I have only spoken to three people this week. Loneliness is a terrible thing, and I know that I really must make an effort and get out more. Perhaps when the weather improves I might manage this. In the meantime, I will keep knitting and reading and find lots of other things to keep my mind active, and try to get out for a walk every day so that I can keep my body active too.
As usual, my mind and tongue seemed to lack the ability to work together. I knew that I could, in fact I should, start the session by talking and yet it seemed so difficult to actually achieve. And then, after a super-human effort I managed it. I started to talk about how I was sorry that I hadn't had a session last Friday for it would have been nice to talk to someone about how my lecture had gone the day before.
Having got started, having made that extreme effort, the session seemed to go quite well. There were moments that were difficult, when tears flowed easily, when I had to admit to wanting things that I knew that I couldn't have, things that were impossible, but as we moved on and talked of other things the tears stopped and I started to feel almost calm. I talked about the adrenalin high that I experienced for about 48 hours after the lecture and seminar, and how my life seemed to tumble into the abyss again once this period was gone.
Talking about it this morning I realized just how disappointing it was not to have someone who I could talk to about the event immediately afterwards. Yes, I blogged about it, and you were kind and sent me lots of lovely comments, but it's just not the same as having someone there who you can talk to about it and who can ask you questions and who can feel the same sense of achievement as you have felt over the experience.
When the session was over I left the hospital to catch a bus; not home but into the centre of London. I was meeting Mr Smiley for lunch and just for a change he was early. Mr Smiley operates on a different time-scale to the rest of us; we call it Smiley Time. Lunch was great, and we had a long chat covering all sorts of things. All too soon it was time to leave and we went our separate ways.
It was only when I got home this afternoon that I realized that I have only spoken to three people this week. Loneliness is a terrible thing, and I know that I really must make an effort and get out more. Perhaps when the weather improves I might manage this. In the meantime, I will keep knitting and reading and find lots of other things to keep my mind active, and try to get out for a walk every day so that I can keep my body active too.
Thursday, 27 November 2008
I Hate Christmas
It hasn't always been this way, but now I hate Christmas. I used to love Christmas, shopping for presents, writing the cards, and looking forward to a surprise present from my husband. We would invariably travel to my parents for the Christmas/New Year period, and the first thing that I would be doing would be helping Mum make the sausage rolls and mince pies. She would roll out the pastry and I would add the sausagemeat and cut up the sausage rolls, before placing them on the baking trays and putting them into the oven; then we'd make the mince pies, where Mum would use the pastry cutters to make the bases and tops of the pies and I would load them with Mum's home-made mincemeat.
After my husband died, Christmas started to lose its appeal. I would still go to my parents for the holiday period, but doing the Christmas shopping and writing the cards became much more of a chore. Then Mum died, and the next Christmas was a bit of a trial for both my Dad and myself. We coped though and I made the sausage rolls and mince pies by myself. They took longer to do, but I didn't need to make so many, so things evened out in the end.
Then Dad died a couple of years later, just a few days before Christmas, and what had been something that I could tolerate became something that I absolutely hated. I hate the constant television adverts for Christmas food or things to buy as presents, I hate not being able to go into shops without being bombarded with ideas for festive party food, I hate sitting down and writing the Christmas cards, and I hate people constantly telling me how they are looking forward to Christmas and assuming that I am too.
I had hoped to be going to Canada for Christmas this year, but owing to having to pay for some expensive repairs to the house, I have had to cancel my trip; I simply cannot afford it. This means that I will be on my own again at Christmas. The time of year that can be fun and happy for those with families, can be the loneliest time of all for those who are alone.
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