*insert witty title here*

I've not blogged this week, even though I've wanted to, because whenever I came to do it, I just couldn't think of what to write. It wasn't that I didn't have anything to write about, more that I just couldn't think of how to put it into words, how to express how I'm feeling, without whinging, moaning or just boring you all to tears.... I'm still feeling like that, but the urge to write an entry has become overwhelming, so (with apologies) I've given in and here I am....

I'm exhausted, not physically, but mentally... Every day I fight to stay positive, to achieve something, to get things done, to stay up and alert and not to give in and go hide under the duvet. I fight to talk normally to people, even when I panic because I can't think of anything to say, I fight to be good mother to A, I fight to keep myself 'normal'...and frankly it's flipping knackering. I really really just want to give up, except that when I think about that, something inside me says 'no, you won't' and so I don't....but that doesn't stop me wanting to. I think I know that if I were to give up, to stop trying, to just take to my bed, then I wouldn't feel better and that it would be a bad move - but that doesn't stop it being an attractive options sometimes. In all honesty, I don't really want to give up, I just want a break...the problem is that I don't want to step off the treadmill, as it were, in case I can't step back on again. So all of this is trundling round in my brain, and making me feel very very stressed....

I've just finished reading a book about a girl who developed severe depression and anxiety after taking ecstasy tablets...some of what she said really resonated with me....I understood what she meant when she talked about a pain inside her, which wasn't so my physical as emotional, and I really understood what she meant when she said that sleep was the only respite from her never-ending panic...that's kinda how I feel.. I look forward to bed time, cos I can go to my room, get into bed and just sleep....except that recently even that hasn't been too much of a haven, because my dreams are becoming more troubling - not nightmares, but worse - normal dreams with a hint of menace to them.... She quotes from Paradise Lost:

"The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven."

Which makes perfect sense to me, since I never know what to expect from this horrible depression...Things which should be fun, aren't and vice versa. What I do know is that it is getting harder and harder to deal with the lows. They come on with no warning, I can have a week or so when things feel fine and I wonder what I've been worried about, I feel like a fake, as though I've made a fuss over nothing - and then bang, on comes the down, and all of sudden I know I'm not faking...but I wish I was. 

The thing is that I'm so ashamed of feeling this way; there is no reason why I should be depressed. I 'won' the lottery of life, I live in a first world country, I have healthcare, a roof over my head, I'm able to survive, albeit only just, and I have amazing family and friends...so what right have I got to feel like this. I hate feeling like this, I know that there are people who have suffered so much more than me, and I feel as tho I'm disgusting for not being happy, for feeling like this... As a result, apart from this blog, I find it excruciatingly hard to talk to people, even my closest friends, about how I feel.. They'll text me, ask how I am and I'll *always* answer "I'm ok" or a variation of that. Because I just can't bring myself to be honest, I don't want to be always saying how bad I feel..even though I know they love me, and they'll support me, my own self-loathing is such that I can't be honest... Even when I make the effort, and open up, I never tell them how bad it is. My mum probably knows the most, and I don't even tell her everything - partly because I love her and I don't want her to know and to worry (although given that she reads this, I guess she knows now - hi mum)...

This is the most honest I've been for a while, and it is helping to get it all out, I just hope that it lasts... I saw the doctor this week, and have been signed off for 3 months - I also should hear about my counselling appointment very soon. I had the last CBT this week, and I just hope that I don't have to wait too long to see the counsellor - the hope is that seeing someone who is completely independent will allow me to be totally honest, and that the regular visits will keep my on a steady footing...certainly the CBT helped when I was seeing D every week, but even he was shocked at how high my scores were on the questionnaire this week having not seen him since before Christmas (every time you visit you have to fill in a form which assesses how you feel/how you're coping)...

I am going to keep going, I don't want to give in... I have a deadline for my first dissertation chapter at the end of this week (18/01) and although I'm feeling slightly panicked at the thought of it, and have only written 400/4000 words, when I was working on it, I did feel ok...it distracted me and that's always good. Yes, it's exhausting, but so long as I don't look too far ahead, and don't think about keeping fighting, then I can cope... I take it day by day. One thing which has pleased me is that I still haven't fallen off the chocolate wagon - I even bought a bar the other day, and it's still (as far as I know - unless A has stolen it), in the bag - I've not touched it. I keep thinking about eating it but a) I'm kinda scared that if I do I'll fall off the wagon, and b) I don't really want to eat it when I think about it... Given that my weight loss has kinda stabilised, I know that the last thing I should do is to start pigging out again. I'm hoping that once the weather improves, I'll be able to get back on my bike again. Mind you, they're threatening snow for next week - gulp... 

Ok, so I do feel better for getting this all out. I'm going to find a cat to snuggle and try to relax now....