Another longish absence (for me, anyway) from the world of online therapy, confession and angst. This time, however, it wasn’t because depression had such a hold of me that I couldn’t function.
In fact, it was probably a first. I had absolutely nothing to say. Nothing that was particularly bothering me, and nothing I could think of that might help someone going through a similar thing to me. Best to say nothing than just say anything.
It’s a sure sign, however, that I’m getting better. The last few days I’ve gone about my life thinking of little, going about my housework, my job searching, my wanders down the seafront, with a curious absence of thought process. I’ve been living a life more ordinary for the first time in ages.
It’s still not been without attendant drawbacks. My sleeping patterns are still way out of kilter, not going to sleep until the sun begins to rise again. It might not be a problem in December but in the middle of the summer it means rest is minimal. Somehow, though, I’ve become accustomed to the mild fatigue. I’ve grown used to it.
My dreams are still very vivid. It’s there that the catalyst for this years descent in depression has appeared yet again. Yep, my ex. It also showed some self awareness. I was back with her, but just before I woke up I actually said to myself that this was a dream. I could feel the hurt even before the dream ended.
Even so, life has been becoming more an everyday thing, rather than hanging onto an existence. I’m not sure why. I’m not specifically happier in myself either. Just ticking over now. Not feeling particularly great in myself, still with cripplingly low self esteem, but absent has been that voice beating me up, reminding me what a rotten, useless person I am. Perhaps it’s gone for a summer holiday.
On the job front, still no luck. At least not the paid variety. It’s not as if I’m looking for full time work exclusively. 25 hours a week, even at minimum wage, would mean I could earn a living without relying on the state pot I paid into for so many years. I’d live frugally, granted, but I would get by.
Yet still no luck. Jobs are asked for, or applied for. Even those with the shortest of hours. Still nobody as yet wants to take that chance on me. It’s so frustrating because I have so much to offer. At some point, though, someone simply has to take a punt. Haven’t they?
It’s depressing to think about it, of course, but recently I’ve not exactly taken it in my stride, more become hardened to rejection. As a result, my thinking time about finding a job and how it affects my self esteem has shortened considerably. Is that good or bad? I really don’t know.
With regard to food, I got by, just. Though I understand fully, these days, that not being able to keep the cupboard full affects everyone. A friend of mine confided last week that she only had enough food to keep her partner well fed but herself reduced to one meal a day, until the end of this month. Even in the ranks of the full time workers, food banks might be needed. It’s a tough old life.
The online dating? Well, it continues. My profile attracts attention, e-mails, and so forth. Yet, there is that shutter still coming down. I don’t believe they’re actually attracted to me, or if we did meet up, the attraction would soon finish. That’s something to work on, obviously.
There’s even been an improvement in my reading habits. A few longish articles in a magazine have been studied with interest. Across the pond, too, there may be another seminal presidential moment. From the first black president, onto maybe the first woman president.
Hillary Clinton may not be everyone’s cup of tea but I was curious to see what she said before she runs for the Oval Office. I couldn’t afford the book but I downloaded a free sample and read the chapters avidly. Not enough to tempt me spending money I don’t have, but the reading bug is happily returning.
Where does this leave me? A little more content, a little more uncertain. The road to recovery is festooned with junctions and crossings. It feels as if, the past few days, I may have just been turning down the right ones. It’s left me in unfamiliar surroundings. Of actually being, in a small way, able to get on with an everyday life.
Doing much with nothingness. I never thought I’d get to that stage after such a comparatively short space of time. That breakdown in my bathrobe and desperate plea to the Samaritans seems a long way away. I’m aware though, that one tiny wrong turning and I’ll be right back there, drowning in an ocean of tears and self loathing again.
Best carry on doing nothing then.