Seems that all this blog is good for is me discussing my depression. I’m sorry chaps, here’s another blog post on
the very same thing. I promise to try to
blog happier stuff in the future but after yesterday’s psychology session, I
had to write something.
I went along to my appointment wondering what I could talk
about because I was feeling relatively good, my office nemesis has begun
actually acknowledging my existence and has begun talking to me again (I’ve not
forgotten what happened though and I keep myself closely guarded now, not just
from her but all my work colleagues), nothing massively terrible had befallen
me since our last appointment.
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| RAAAAARGH! Write something cheerier next time!! |
So, over the course of an hour and a half, I felt such pain
and despair, a gnawing blackness of hopelessness. I sobbed, I bawled…I thought that dark place
inside me was shrinking but in these sessions it seems to gape, dragging my
good feelings and emotions deep inside.
We discussed my poor body image and low self opinion (Henry Rollins was
not mentioned once), and ultimately what it boiled down to was I am fat so I am
a failure which ultimately led to no-one would miss me if I wasn’t here. I haven’t felt such raw and powerful emotion
since I was first diagnosed back in February.
It ached deep down to vocalise my thoughts…and the thing is, if I wasn’t
fat, I could find a million and one other things to blame my failings on. It’s just fat comes to mind because society
and the media dictate that to be fat is offensive and hideous.
We are conditioned to believe that if you are fat, you
cannot be beautiful, you are looked down on, you are worthless (the horror film
The ABCs of Death shows this in the segment X is for XXL – it’s maybe a little extreme). People judge you if you are fat, it could be glandular, it could be cakes and pies and Guinness, it
could also be that you are concentrating so hard on trying to get your head
back in the right place that actually you haven’t been watching what you eat,
and let’s not forget that some antidepressants can make you a big ole tubster.
I was in pain yesterday, horrific terrible inner pain. A pain not felt for months…the session preyed
on my mind for the rest of the day and evening.
It left me feeling out of sorts; David had to constantly ask me if I was
okay. It was just such a powerful thing
to experience and to think that I had been feeling that virtually every single
day, well even before I was diagnosed and signed off work, it truly is amazing
that I didn’t kill myself. No one should
ever have to feel like that, go through the pain and anguish that your mind can
cruelly put you through.
I am hoping that this is a turning point for me. I wish to not go back there ever again. It’s painful and it’s raw and it took me
aback yesterday that I could still feel that.
I thought I was getting better…seems it’s a long road.
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| I know there's hope at the end of here... |
