Yesterday, I got a telling off from a friend. She had been reading my newly resurrected blog and noticed that some posts were missing that I have previously published. While I had effectively taken nearly a year off from writing this blog on a regular and active basis, I did post sporadically last year about what I was going through during that year. On rebooting this, I decided to delete these posts to have a think about why I had posted them and how I felt about putting that information out there. Funnily enough this week marks the anniversary of that year kicking off and I've been reflecting on what had changed, happened or not, during that time. I realise this all sounds a bit cryptic so here goes...
One year ago I went to the GP to finally ask for help with my depression. I had Postnatal Depression. I knew it all along but thought that given that it was mostly the upheaval of bringing another life into the work and a bad combination of hormones, it would go away by itself. It didn't It only got worse, the longer I left it untreated. I felt like I was drowning and what was the occasional dark mood was turning into dark thoughts. The GP gave me pills and sought counselling for me. To this day, I still havent had any counselling as the local hospital don't think that I'm depressed enough to allow me to have CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) on the NHS despite the fact that I can't afford it otherwise. So I've been muddling along with my dosages being increased over the last year as my body got used to the chemicals.
I've spent that last year with my head bobbing just above the surface, occasionally being pulled under by the current.* I've been ignoring it, letting the medication soothe my moods and ignoring the swings in their extremity. I have to do something about it, so I will starting today. I will republish all of my posts about depression in the last year and it may even feature as a regular topic on this blog. The reason I got a telling off was because some of the posts I had written had elicited a response from readers who shared or were sharing a similar experience. She felt that I was turning my back on them and myself by pretending that it didn't happen.
So I will apologise now in advance. If this makes you uncomfortable, there will be other things to read, to laugh at, to shout about. I am very aware of the tone of such posts and that posts about depression can be a total misery (pardon the pun). But it is part of who I am and what I am living with. If you know me in real life, then don't avoid me. Talk about the nonsense I post, ask if I'm okay. I probably am, and probably more so after writing a post relating to depression.
Here are the links to these posts:
Facing up to the Truth about having Depression
Can Something as Serious as Depression be so Silly?
Blogging is Cheaper than Therapy
Having a Bad Day? Read this.
Self-help Scepticism: Part One
Self-help Scepticism: Part Two
How not to Respond to a Mental Health Check-up.
And do you know what, I'm okay with putting this out there.
*NB: I have no idea why I used the Black Dog and Swimming metaphors. I am severely allergic to dogs and I can't swim...