You’ll have noticed the lack of a witty and insightful title.  This is not insignificant.

I’m finding it hard to blog.  There’s two strands to why.  First, I’m – I think – pretty substantially depressed.  I’m not aware of an emotional impact, but I seem to be chronically tired, and getting out of bed has become a Herculean task; I managed it at about 13:17 today.  Maybe doesn’t sound like a big deal – some people with depression spend days in bed – but for me, it is.

Part of the reason I’m finding it hard to get out of bed is that I feel safer there.  This relates to the second reason I’m finding it hard to blog – my anxiety levels are through the roof.  Why?  I can’t tell you.  I can’t blog about the reasons because putting them into words makes me too scared.  I’m sorry, but I can’t face making myself go there.  I’m sorry.

It’s related to the time of year, and it will get worse, and the fear won’t ever lift, now, until March.  I find this so hard.  Being anxious to the point of nausea for 5 months, solidly, with no respite.  It makes it hard to sleep, hard to eat, hard to read, hard to watch TV, hard to think – hard just to exist.  It would be so much easier not to exist, the peace and quiet would be worth it.

I know that makes me sound like a squealing drama queen, but I can’t help it.  Sorry.  If I sound desperate, I am desperate.  I am so tired, and I want peacefulness more than anything else in the world, but I know I won’t rest properly from now until the spring.

I find this so hard.  Depression is familiar.  It’s no fun, but it’s been ubiquitous for more than a decade now, and I know it, I understand it, I know how to cope with it, how to get through the worse patches in order to get to the better ones.  I can cope, too, just about, in a way, with the more obviously crazy bullshit my mind throws at me, the hearing people talking, the seeing things – even the paranoia, which is truly horrible because of the way it undermines everything: thought, perception, cause-and-effect, friendship, everything that makes the world makes sense.  But this, this anxiety (stupid, stupid, inadequate, inexpressive little word), is so much worse because it’s just a normal feeling turned up the nth degree.

I can’t fight it as irrational, because it isn’t irrational.  The thing I’m frightened of (and I can’t tell you what it is, and I’m sorry) will happen one day, maybe today, maybe in the next couple of hours.  For these four or five months every year I live constantly in the shadow of imminently experiencing the thing I am most terrified of in all the world, the thing I would rather die than have to face.  Five months of living on the very, very edge of life: how can I cope with that?

I will have to, of course.  I have been; this is the fourth winter I will have faced where I feel like this.  No doubt it isn’t and won’t be so bad as lack of sleep is making it seem.  But it isn’t worth the effort.  Nothing is worth this, not even the relief of spring.  And spring is so very far away.

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6 Responses to 08.10.10

  1. Katherine says:

    Looking back, I can say with certainty that as awful and painful as being depressed was, it was not the depression that was disabling but the anxiety. You’re right, it is a totally inadequate word for what it is. We need something Greek or German, something more epic-sounding, to really capture it and show how different it is from the day to day worry or anticipation kind of anxiety.

    I hope that this winter is a break from the past four years and that the anxiety will go unexpectedly away. That may not be very realistic, but I hope it nevertheless.

  2. mediocrity511 says:

    I think I can really relate to this, I have a phobia of something that tends to activate around this time of year, then die of around March time also. I have found it completely crippling, being unable to leave the house on my own, being too scared to talk about what’s going on and having to take all sorts of bizarre precautions to feel safe. Last year it got completely overwhelming, I reached crisis point and had a short admission to hospital. The psychiatrist there suggested that maybe the fears were some kind of bizarre explanation I’d come up with because of seasonal affective disorder and my interpretation of some events that had happened to me. Initially I was very skeptical, as I’ve not heard of SAD causing psychosis-like symptoms and I was convinced that the reason everything was awful was because of the fears, not that the fears were awful because of the time of year. However, I did purchase a lightbox and bizarrely enough it did seem to make a difference. It’s hard to explain, I’m still scared, but its sort of like that fear bounces off me a bit more. It also certainly gives me more energy, which is a very useful tool in trying to fight against the fear and maintain some semblance of normal life. Obviously it might not work for you, but there’s a possibility.
    Also I’ve found it very weird reading someone’s experience which chimes with my own so much. I seem to be a bit of a mystery to the CMHT and various people haven’t really “got it” when I’ve tried to explain. I thought maybe I just had a fairly unique brand of mentalness, but perhaps not!

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  4. sanabituranima says:

    *hug* You are not a screaming drama queen, and I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. Be gentle with yourself.

  5. beetrootsoup says:

    Oh Aethelread, my heart goes out to you. And I have to confess my curiosity is piqued too! You would rather die than tell us what it is that you fear. Right, so that rules out death anyway!

    Yes, anxiety is truly a killer, and no, that word isn’t adequate. I’ve been pinned to the floor with anxiety this year myself, yet it never seemed to loom that large before. The combination with depression is a marriage made in Hell.

    But I can’t help thinking you do need to share this overwhelming fear with someone. Forgive me if I’m talking out of turn. But doesn’t this stuff just get bigger if we hold it all inside?

    Doesn’t matter if it ain’t on this blog. Understandable enough you don’t want to share your worst fear with a thousand strangers. But we are all human. You can bet your bottom dollar someone else has been where you are or at the very least can relate. We are all way more the same than we are different.

    In the meantime massive virtual hugs A. Love, Zoe xxx

  6. “…it’s been ubiquitous for more than a decade now, and I know it, I understand it…”

    You talk of your depression – was there a trigger for it?

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