The sleeping, the headaches, the general feeling of achey non ability to face the world preferring to stay in a darkened room all cosy in bed-ness of the past week had almost convinced me that they were an attack of the lurg, determined to get me to head to the medicine counter and down some Beechams.
Of course it's not flu because that would be too easy, it's what they call in the trade 'a depressive episode'. Again. The signs are getting easier for me to recognise which I should be grateful for because eventually that should make it easier to deal with quickly or maybe even manage to avoid entirely. Sadly I've not managed it this time and so find myself at a low ebb desperately wondering when I'll bounce back.
The sleep is the first thing to go, I zip wildly between total inability to get to sleep which turns me into a wide eyed banshee who paces the kitchen of her house praying for sleep to come and a sloth who does nothing but sleep and even in those brief moments of awakeness is wishing to be asleep again.
Next up is the food, I veer between stuffing my face with everything in sight and not being able to eat a mouthful because it makes me sick. Even water can make me throw up when I'm really low. The sleep and the food I can deal with, it's the feelings that absolutely floor me.
I know I'm really properly fucked when I start getting weepy, really weepy, about random old people on the street. I burst into tears the other day when I saw a little old man carrying his shopping – I was worried about him being lonely and sad and couldn't stop the tears from flowing. Even writing about it now I'm getting upset again. The other sure sign that I've reached the depths again is when I start allowing the nasty voices in my head to speak to me and to bring me down.
There has been a furore on Twitter about someone promoting the idea of 'managed anorexia' and a size zero diet pill. I've tried not to get involved because from the start the demons in my head have been telling me that he is right and that 'thin IS in', that if I'm not a size zero then I'm nothing. The tiny rational part of my brain that is left is screaming at me that he's wrong and thankfully I have just enough sanity left to keep winning the mental battles about it but it is EXHAUSTING.
I get so tired that I just want to detach my head or unplug my brain for a bit, I can't deal with the bullshit and with the spoilt little girl inside me that keeps asking 'why me?'. Why not me? I didn't ask for mental health issues I just appear to have been at the front of the queue when they were being dished out and that is something I just have to deal with on a day by day basis. Thankfully I have a wonderful GP and am being well looked after by the NHS, working as a collective to get me onto the right medication and dosage to even things up a bit. I know I'll get there but I just wish the journey was easier.