I’ve probably written too much about my own issues with depression and anxieties, so doubtless my loyal reader will follow my advice to look away now.
I have probably neglected to add fractured, dislocated and sometimes completely broken sleep patterns as part of my existence. Speaking with therapists, counsellors and, especially, fellow sufferers reminds me I am far from alone and, in many instances, I sleep like a baby compared to others who barely sleep at all. In the midst of an attack of various anxieties – and I have a fair idea of the reasons and how I shall deal with them, which in my case involves compiling a lengthy list of dos and don’ts and then doing and don’ting (I think I may have invented a new word, there) them. The process starts today.
I wonder how it is people simply switch off at the end of the day. I usually read for ages until I think I am tired enough, switch off the light and then lie in bed for absolutely ages thinking about stuff. The stuff is not always bad stuff. Unfortunately, it can be good stuff, or it can be ideas to write about the next day. And then I think about all of it, in random order until I fall asleep when I am least expecting it. Even allowing for the nocturnal bathroom break, which has afflicted me since I was a small child and hasn’t yet developed into two, three or more visits, I wake up seemingly all the time at stupid hours of the night, almost completely awake for long periods. I put Radio Five Live on, very quietly, in order to strain my ears at a conversation that is hopefully boring and will send me to sleep. Some hope. And so it goes, until around 5.30am when I fall into the deepest sleep imaginable. Soon, it is time to get up, obviously, and so I get up, feeling far more tired than when I went to bed. There’s logic for you.
Fellow mentalists will understand the meaning of the word clutter. In between and sometimes during depressive episodes I collect mountains of the stuff and the only way to deal with the clutter is to gradually begin a process to jettison the likely causes, beginning with inducements to anxiety and stress until, hopefully, the mental process once again assumes some form of normality, whatever that is. Clutter involves concerning one’s self with things that cannot be affected or changed. My father was chief among my elders at living his incredibly successive life by parking the stuff he could not change and affect and focusing on those he could. It worked for him but it will never work properly for me, so I do the best I can.
In a semi-low spell like this one, which I have seen coming for a good few weeks, it’s a question of taking the straight path and sticking with familiar territories and situations which bring certainty and continuity. I didn’t invent all this stuff. I learnt it from doctors, therapists and counsellors and it’s surprisingly effective. If you’re in a similar place, then see one of them. It can keep you alive.
No “Oh I hope you feel better soon” stuff, please. I respect and love the sentiment, but I don’t want this to descend into self-pity and crying out for help. I’m sharing my demons, such as they are, for someone else who might be reading. I’m confident that this will all pass in the next few weeks because it’s like this for a lot of the time and I know how it pans out. And like I always say, possibly to the point of nausea to some, I am the lucky one because I get by. If you are not getting by, don’t leave it. These things may never get completely better, but they might not get worse and if they get worse you might not be able to control it or stay alive at all.
