Categories: uncategorized
Date: 07 January 2006 01:44:07
These are nocturnal ramblings of one who cannot sleep. I pondered just writing them down in a notepad or speaking them out to God, but this seemed a better option. Don't know why, maybe it'll help more this way.
Help. That is an interesting word. I have recently discovered that I do not like to ask for help. Someone in work commented on this, saying " So you expected to be born knowing everything, did you?" This showed how ludicrous my need to be self-suffiecient actually is!
It may surprise those who know me that I do not feel comfortable being the one in need. I have spent so much of my life feeling that I need support here, there and everywhere that it begins to grate after a while. Just because, historically, I have been only too ready to seek assistance from those I love and trust, it does not mean that I have to *like* it. It is a matter of recognising the necessity and responding.
However, when I married Jeff in the Summer and moved away from my base in Swansea, where many of my good friends live, I figured that this would be a fresh start. A start particularly free of needing to ask for bloody help.
However, I have recently come to the realisation that I am, once again, suffering from depression. I am on meds for it anyway, but I was hoping that in the long run I would be able to come off of them. If I am honest, I was not doing too well before the situation with Mum blew up, but this has just brought things to a head. If I was floundering in the deep end before, some bugger has now filled up the pool and turned on the wave machine!
So where does that leave me? I have spent the last few days off work and, not to seem too super-spiritual I hope, alot of that time I have spent praying. I suppose that I hoped that if I prayed long enough and hard enough, the lurking fear, anger, weariness and tendency to burst into tears would go away. It has, occasionally. Occasionally is not enough though. The fact is, as I admitted to Jeff after a particularly soul-searching and soggy session, I am not winning here.
That leaves me in a quandry. If there is any help I hate more than any other, it is having to take meds in order to be a rational human being. I figure that, as it is a matter of the mind, I should be able to think myself better or, failing that, for God to intervene and make it better. I hate the rhetoric that people come out with comparing depression to diabetes. You do not think with your pancreas and neither is there any sense of stigma attached to being diabetic. I just want to be SANE! And to be sane without needing to pop pills.
It comes back down to the question of Boxing Day that I could not answer then and I cannot answer now. God can do anything he chooses, it is just that sometimes his choice is not the same as ours.
If I could have my way, Mum would be fit and happy, Denise and Dad would not be at each others throats, and I would be enjoying a blissful first year of marriage with my husband. Well, blissful may be overstating it a little, but I would not have chosen this level of difficulty, that is for sure.
I did not ask for a mountain to climb. I suppose I wanted green pastures and still waters all the way. And I certainly did not order leaden grey skies and torrential rain. If taking anti-depressants is the equivalent of wearing heavy duty waterproofs, instead of saying "I want it to be sunny and therefore I will wear shorts and a t-shirt" then I suppose that is the most rational option. It still does not mean that I have to *like* it, tho.
I could shake my fist at the skies and demand that the storm go away, or I could put on my waterproofs and seek shelter when it got too bad. Bit of a no-brainer, really. Thanks for listening and, if you can say anything to help (yes, help), please feel free to comment. Hopefully I'll sleep now.