I’m not entirely sure where to start. I haven’t been around on here for a while. In fact I’ve been absent from life itself since the beginning of the year. I’ve neglected good friends, I’ve neglected my journey, I’ve neglected life.
There are those of you who are persistent and have kept bugging me and for that I thank you. Then there are those who I expected to bug me that haven’t. I think an audit of people in my life might be coming up. There are those that I seem to value way more than they value me.
Anyway, this post is going to be long. If you need to duck to the loo, or make a cuppa, now is the time. Hmm, whilst I’m at it, if you’ve been sitting still for a while glued to facebook or twitter or anything else on a screen, stand up, do a few stretches, throw in twenty star jumps and get that system working again.
I’ve planned and re-planned this blog post so many times in my head that I should just be able to let it flow from the tips of my fingers, but I’m hesitant. There’s still something inside me that doesn’t want to post this. Doesn’t want to share. Wants to bottle it up, keep it inside and hide it from everyone.
This post can have repercussions in so many parts of my life. I deal with a lot of narrow minded people on a regular basis who would rather just make assumptions than find out the truth. It’s always easier to jump to a conclusion rather than asking the question but we all know the right way to approach things.
In early January I was diagnosed with mild depression. The Black Dog. The blues.
I’m normally an optimist. A glass half full girl. I’m the sort of person you can count on to brighten up your day and to make you smile. I love smiling. I love being happy – it’s contagious! This version of me seemed a distant dream and I was now living a nightmare.
I struggled to pull myself out of bed. Work has always been a passion of mine and suddenly I just didn’t care. My weightloss which was important to me, and more importantly, I was doing so well at just didn’t matter. I’d lost my will to care. My bones ached, I was fatigued and tired. I was turning up late to work, I was that exhausted that by 10am I’d be falling asleep. This was a vicious cycle. I didn’t realise at this point that I had depression. I thought I’d just lost my mojo. With the depression came weight gain. The only time I felt okay was when I ate. First I put on a kilo, then another. Now I’m 10 kg heavier than I was at my lightest. This morning I weighed in at 107kg. Still a far cry from my heaviest, but it’s not pretty. As I’ve gotten rid of my fat clothes, I’m feeling more disgusted in myself than I ever have before. I refuse to buy bigger clothes. I know this isn’t me. Upon advice from someone very important in my life, I sought help from my GP and I now see someone every couple of weeks to talk things through. To unfold my life and work out what is going on; to set strategies to stop me from eating my emotions and my feelings. I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never been so lost. I’m not on medication, this is just being managed through my sessions. Although I’m at the very beginning of this journey, I am excited at the prospect of being myself again, being able to continue on my journey of self-discovery. Depression is an illness. You can’t catch it – it’s not contagious. It doesn’t make me any less of person or any less capable. It doesn’t mean you have to avoid me. It doesn’t mean that you have the right to treat me differently. This is just part of me and I’m dealing with it.
Two weeks on from my diagnosis and my bones are still aching, I’m still feeling fatigued. I visit my GP once again, terrified that she’ll think I’m a hypochondriac or something. At this point I believe I’m a walking disaster.
I go for blood tests to rule out everything serious and to my surprise they all come back negative. My GP advises me that based on my previous diagnosis, these symptoms could be psychosomatic.
1. Of or relating to a disorder having physical symptoms but originating from mental or emotional causes.
2. Relating to or concerned with the influence of the mind on the body, especially with respect to disease.
The American Heritage® Medical Dictionary Copyright © 2007, 2004 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.
Basically, I understand this to mean that I am suffering from symptoms that aren’t really caused by anything other than what’s in my head. Quite a scary theory, but not something I was willing to subscribe to without researching further. As this was going on, my back was getting worse and I was struggling to sit or stand for any greater lengths of time.
So in 8 weeks, I’ve had a lot of things to deal with; to get my head around and get used to. My fluctuating weight didn’t help either. I need to make it more of a priority.
So this just about catches everyone up to where I’m at today.