Those down days

I have never suffered from persistent depression.  I know many people who have, and do, and struggle with it on a daily basis.  I think my mental health is generally pretty good.  But every now and then I have one of those down days where my head feels like it's full of marshmallows and cotton wool, my eyes struggle to stay open, there are tears lurking fully formed in my tear ducts and a permanent lump in my throat.  Any small thing is likely to make me cry.  The day seems too hard to do.  Too hard to be.

On these days I would really like to find a smallish cubbyhole, climb in, close the door and shut the world out for the day.

It usually lasts only a day, so I know I'm lucky.  And I've never been so down that I've been in danger of harming myself, or anyone else for that matter.

Today is one of those days.

The first time I can remember having one of these days was during my first week back at work after my daughter's cancer diagnosis.  She was three when she was diagnosed with retinoblastoma, childhood eye cancer, and had to have her right eye removed.  (I'll blog about this another time) Luckily I noticed it early enough that it was contained, and she didn't need chemotherapy or radiation.  But for me, it meant that three weeks after my entire world was picked up, shaken vigorously, turned inside out and set back down at a different angle, I was back at work and, barring the generous sympathy of a number of my colleagues, kinda expected to get on with it.

For much of that first week back, I sat at my desk in stunned silence, hands folded, staring at my computer, wondering what it was I was supposed to do. Several times I closed the door and sat on the floor behind my desk to cry.  My employer has an Employee Assistance Programme, which allowed me three free appointments with a counsellor, and this was a great help.  But still, every now and then I would be hit with a wave of "oh my god what am I doing here and how can I keep going?"  The biggest crying jag I had was prompted by realising I had brought the wrong lunch to work - meat instead of vegan - so clearly I was living close to my maximum coping level.

In some ways I felt bad for not "coping better".  People kept telling me how well I was coping and asking how I did cope and I although wondered what the alternative to coping actually was,  I had been labelled a coper, so I felt I had to keep coping.  I also knew that we had had a much easier child cancer journey than most of the people I had met on the ward, so I didn't feel like I had the "right" not to cope.

That was in September 2011 and ever since, every now and then, I have had dark, down, days.  Not often and of varying intensity, but enough to ensure I never quite let down my guard.

I've learned just to accept that these days happen and to allow myself to "feel feelings" without feeling guilty or bad about feeling them.  That's what I'm doing today. And I guess that's probably the best I can do.

If think you are suffering from depression, do ask for help.  In New Zealand, you can get help at http://www.depression.org.nz/. 

If you have occasional down days like mine, I highly recommend reading The Bloggess and Hyperbole and a Half  for a serious but funny look at mental health issues and life in general.