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Monday 1 April 2019

Faces

If you've read through any of my posts, you may have detected a common thread; I am a frequent user of both medical and psychiatric resources in an attempt to get me to a place where life is not just survivable, but maybe even enjoyable.  I am a survivor in so many definitions of the word, and I do not doubt that there have been times in my life that I have had some degree of enjoyment; I just don't remember them.

I have been in a state of 'crash' since Fall of 2015, and when all conventional treatments had been exhausted and rendered useless, we turned to ECT to try and get me back to the living.  Those treatments have robbed me of the majority of the memories since the time I met my husband, but the memories I would have gladly sacrificed prior to then are still for the most part whole.

What this has left me with is many 'faces', most of varying degrees of depression, some that appear to be happy or at the least content, and many many more lost to the vagaries of memory.

My most recent morning, 12+ hours of sleep and still not enough, my first time on my own in 20+ years and not coping well.

Self-care goes out the window the deeper I dive.  My hair is left to tie itself in knots because I could care less how I look to anyone, except sometimes to my husband, and even then it's a struggle.

Finding comfort in anything, even if slightly on the childish side (sometimes it's the child that needs the soothing).

Music, my constant companion.  Played loud enough even the noise in my head can be drowned out for a while at least.

A good day where my smile doesn't have to be forced.  My family brings out the best in me.

My most genuine smile to date; how could I not smile when my husband, my partner, was pledging himself to me?

The beginning of the crash, trying to hold on for dear life knowing how bad things get, but depression won.

A genuine smile.  Things were falling into place, I was going places, and I could breathe.


One of the earliest pictures I have access to.  A snapshot taken at the end of football (that's American football of course) practice and turned into buttons for parents to wear at the games.  I was a badass and could hold my own on the boy's team, even when it was difficult.

I've been in a lot of places and frames of mind since as far back as I can remember.  Depression has always been peering over my shoulder waiting to drag me deeper into itself.  On the days when life is just exhausting, I turn to my family, and know that despite everything they have been through with me they are still here, so I have to return the favour.

Today is Mother's Day here in the U.K. and I don't deserve the children I have been given but I thank god for them every day.

Happy Mother's Day from Newcastle!

PS:  I am going to work back to some sort of schedule working on my blog.  If there is anything of interest you'd like to hear about life here either as a recent transplant or on any topics of life please leave me a comment.  I'm also posting a lot of pictures over on Instagram if that sort of thing is intriguing.

Cheers!






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