Today was the worst day that I can remember. (Mind you, I reckon I experience symptomatic memory loss when it comes to my depression; probably necessary, because the fear of having to live through numerous days like today would make suicide seem the only logical response.) If you’re in the know, then when I say “the pain in my head today was right on the edge of being completely unbearable” then you won’t suggest I take an aspirin. You’ll know I’m talking about a sort of ‘psychic pain’, for want of a better term, which I think needs to be experienced to be understood.
Still, let’s acknowledge the positives, forgetting all the hours spent this morning lying limply on the floor weeping:
- I did manage to get hold of one of my therapists and explain why I thought our current approach isn’t quite working (and barely used the word “fuck” at all, once I was off his answering machine and speaking to an actual person).
- I did successfully resist any and all temptations to self harm or suicide; and believe me, they were many and various. What a cruelly creative mind I have!
- With the help of the dearly beloved, I got dressed in ‘outside the house’ clothes and walked up and down our street twice. Yippee.
- Finally, I even managed to a make a couple of phone calls to ensure some paperwork had found its way from my hospital to my GP so the latter can, at last, complete a VicRoads form which will allow me to keep my drivers licence, provided of course that my GP – a stickler for rules – will find the paperwork satisfactory. Of course, it is not my role as a patient to make this happen, but what’s a girl to do? Lose her licence because of other peoples’ incompetence? I think not.*
It is only early this evening that I have felt my PRN medications taking the edge off my suffering. I’m beginning to think the brain secretes an extra ‘torture endorphin’ during very, very bad major depressive episodes. Please let me know if you’ve heard any research about that 🙂 I’m sure it’ll be right beside the current unicorn population counts.
Last word: I’m still alive, I’m glad to be alive, and I understand how lucky I am to be alive. That’s enough for a rough day, right?
* I will be posting a major rant about VicRoad’s Medical Review, and my opinion that it discriminates against those with mental health issues, when I am confident that only three in five words will make my grandma blush.