Tuesday, 21 June 2011

It's so weird

I subscribe to quite a few blogs.  Some I was attracted to because of their stories, some because of their pictures, some because of their talent.  A handful I was attracted too because of the raw honesty.  They wouldn't pretend to be something online they were not.  If they were happy, they said so.  If they were depressed, they said so.  If they were self-harming, they said so.

One such blog I read recently had a post on how people always comment 'but you seem so happy' when they find out about clinical depression.  I think that statement goes for most people.  Depending on the severity of your depression, it is very easy to hide behind a happy exterior for some of the time.  Not all the time, and people you are with often will most likely see through it, but it always amazes me how well I can pull off happy when I need to.  It almost feels like a manic episode but not as drawn out - I am capable of swinging to both extremes in the blink of an eye, turning on the public face when it is needed.

joy  (joi)n.1.
a. Intense and especially ecstatic or exultant happiness.

I have not felt joy in god knows how long.  Pure joy is a feeling I remember, but do not feel, and I am not sure when I will feel it again. 

My moods operate on a very small rollercoaster - the differences in moods would probably not be much to see if charted in a graph, but the specific characteristics of my moods can vary greatly.  When I am doing well and happy as I can mentally be, I love life.  I love friends, I love going out and I am very sociable.  When I am not doing well, I like life.  I like friends, I don't like going out and I can think of nothing worse than being sociable.  Jitterbug can spot my moods.  He may not know the extent, as I am very very good at hiding the worst of it when he is here, but he knows when things aren't good.  When it's bad, I don't go out, I get very stressed out and nit-pick the small things in an effort to detract attention from me.  He spots that, and accepts it, and knows it will get better. 

Overall, I can control it very well.  There are things that will topple me over if I am already teetering on the edge, and they are all new developments, because it was never something I had to worry about.

My best friend right now is my journal.  My best friend is not anyone that can hug me, or tell me to snap out of it.  This is a new struggle to me.  I've always had best friends, and I was always their best friend.  I had 3 best friends, and we were each others best friend.  Some of us were closer than others, but we all knew everything about each other, no secrets and no-one ever felt left out.  They stabilised me, and held me up when I was down, and I did that for them too.  I was part of something really special, and now I'm not.  I feel like I am on the outskirts of lots of close friendships, but I don't feel a part of them, though I do have close friends.

My closest people friend is my husband, and he does a fine job at trying to understand, but it's not quite the same.  If I was to tell him exactly how I feel, how I feel a quick rush of adrenalin at the thought of self-harming again, he would freak out and think it was his fault and try to fix 'it'; 'it' being me.  The last time I did it, he was so angry and so scary.  He can't understand why it would be an attraction.  He looks at my old scars sometimes and looks so sad, like it was a personal failing on his part, despite the fact it had gone on long before he was ever around, and went on long after we broke up.

Oh, and my baby sister (20) got engaged at the weekend.  I will try to be happy for her, but all I feel is  disappointment.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...