Tuesday, 14 March 2017

A tearfully bad day ...

Okay today is a bad day, tears streaming down my face, feeling hopeless and dark.

 'Shaking and blubbing like a baby'

Despite my blogging and shouting on social media I have yet to pluck up the courage to look for help. I had convinced myself that like the last time this happened two years ago that I could do this on my own but it's looking very much like I can't. Some days I can be quite balanced and strong, others just pathetically weak and weepy. Today is the later ...

I've been off sick since Christmas and haven't really been out much since then. Well I have ferried my daughter around, had a couple of meals out and tackled some medical appointments but what I like to do most is sit in the house with the curtains drawn so the world can't get to me. An old friend caught me out walking the dogs yesterday and suggested he pop around for a coffee, he drove off leaving me thinking he'd be around at my house soon. Well I panicked wholeheartedly and text him very quickly saying I had an appointment and could we do it some other time. I raced home, pulled the curtains, locked the doors and hid upstairs until he'd answered 'never mind'.

I do not want to face people, talking, noise, movement, just about anything really that isn't encapsulated inside my own little world inside these four walls.

I've lost what I thought were good friends because of my sociable ineptitude, well I guess they weren't worth worrying about if they got the hump about their damaged feelings because I hadn't been out recently or when they told me my mental health was irrelevant but it has still hurt me to know they weren't the people I thought they were. Needless to say my anxiety has risen its ugly head and blamed me for it, so I've been battering myself about it for two weeks, getting in a right state whenever I have to go near these silly people. I have to put myself first now though so I need to try and not be bothered about their hurt feelings and instead deal with my own.

This morning whilst answering a random tweet I suddenly realised as I burst in top tears yet again that I really don't have this 'episode' under control. I'm a wreck masquerading as an astute adult.

What I needed back at the start was someone to book me an appointment with a psychologist and just take me there! To assume a mentally ill person is capable of arranging their own treatment is a big ask if |I am any example to go by!

Plus I have a phobia of telephones, do not ask me why because I don't know - well I guess if I was to get all Freudian I would say it was probably because my Mother and I last spoke to each other 15 years ago over the telephone. On that occasion she was abusive, putrid and downright rude to me before disowning me for refusing to divorce my Father at the same time as she did! We've not spoken or seen each other since. She has only met my eleven year old daughter, baby bear, on one fluke occasion. Some Grandmother hey?!
So I suspect it is that, but knowing does not help me escape from the fear that grips me, or the tears that flow when the telephone rings or I know I have to make a call.

The other thing I have stupidly been forcing myself to do is walk endless miles. My poor little dogs are exhausted!! They've only little legs which are getting shorter every day!! Why is that a bad thing I hear you ask? The Fibromyalgia diagnosis means alongside my many symptoms I have significant joint pain daily and that's before any exercise, as such I have been advised to exercise little and often.  But something inside me feels driven to try and walk it off, the #FunnyFibro that is or perhaps its my attempt drive out the depression?  Maybe it is the later because if I'm hurting myself physically and I'm exhausted I won't have to face or deal with my feelings of hopelessness, being ugly or feeling like a waste of space will I? I did 5 miles yesterday and my right knee joint is now swollen so that it looks like the knee cap is actually a melon, plus the numbness is back and my foot keeps going dead! The dogs are still exhausted today, as am I to be honest!

The odd thing is when I meet someone out walking or have to face people I can still just about summon the cop genie! What an earth does she mean I hear you shout?! Those that suffer with depression or have done in the past know exactly what I am about to type don't you? The veil we can hide behind, the doppelganger we can swap with?

The cop genie fights off the black dog and brings me a professional face, an articulate voice and makes me sound like I know what I'm talking about!

I even have an invisible uniform and public order shield!  I can jump back into that old skin and convince the world that I have this down and I'm coping absolutely fine! That time span however is dependant on how well you are feeling mentally... The genie can be summoned for varying time spans, for instance until I fell off the magic carpet at Christmas (went sick/got ill!)  I could summon the cop genie for almost eight hour stints barring a little blubbing in the toilets here and there.

But the more poorly I get the less able I am to find the magic required to summon or sustain the cop genie and the black dog invades my mind. When the cop genie is beaten by the black dog I'm left with the hollow husk of a drained and broken human being flailing around unsure of herself ,wracked with anxiety and self doubt. Unable to cope, unable to do anything other than blunder around, shout at people, get cross, cry, sit staring into space, or typing a blog entry!

I managed to summon the cop genie this morning for a few minutes just to send an email to the charity Safe Horizons UK asking for help. I'm not sure what help I'm asking for, I'm not sure they can help me, but I have extended an arm, reached out to them anyways.

Plus I've written this today so all is not lost!

Despite all of this, or perhaps because of all this, I am still determined to bring together suffering cops into my Black Dog Pack. If only for you to feel united, not alone and that someone 'gets' what it is you are feeling. I know the trials of living with depression and anxiety in todays police service, which sadly, is still mostly riddled with stigma against mental illness.

I have been considering getting some Black Dog Cop bracelets made up, so that we can all wear them, then we could know each other show and share experiences and support one another. Non-sufferers have also shown an interest in that they would like to show support for our struggles and even indicate themselves as a 'safe' person with whom you could confide and talk.

Let me know your thoughts @BeachHutBabe24

No comments:

Post a Comment