I recently read Emma Forrest’s ‘Your Voice in my
Head’. If you’ve read it, you understand
when I say it is not an easy one to get through.
The writing is beautiful – she clearly loves language and
marries words in such a way that in a healthy mind wouldn’t come so easily, but
that still seem to make perfect sense. The danger in reading an autobiographical book about
someone else’s mental illness was the reminder of my own sadness or as the
official diagnosis goes, “mild to moderate depression”.
I was never suicidal, just shrouded in perpetual gloom.
There were days I’d wake up and wish I hadn’t…days when the anxiety over
feeling without hope was so paralyzing I’d be late for work and social events,
if I even went at all…when the negative stigma attached to being mentally ill forced
me to instead of being open with people about it, place blame elsewhere. He broke up
with me. She was a terrible friend to me. So-and-so was a terrible leader
and stifled my career. I sometimes still joke “you
know I’m only really happy when I’m miserable” because it veils the underlying truth.
There have been times I felt I blended into walls, completely
unnoticed. Ugly, fat ,dumb, a
terrible person…undeserving of love and friendship and success. I sabotaged relationships with good men
because I knew eventually they would realise I was a loser and want to
leave…orchestrating break ups so I wouldn’t feel the humiliation of being
dumped and then persecuting the guy in a way that people couldn’t help but join
in on my pity party. I come from a good
family, and have a small but mighty circle of friends. There was no rationale for me to feel this way,
but it was there, knawing away at my good sense…
The doctor gave me pills, they stopped me from feeling
sad… they stopped me from feeling anything so I stopped taking them. I saw therapists, but I felt they were
belittling me (see? the fault always lies elsewhere) so I stopped seeing them. Over time I got better, and have been for a while now. There are moments when I feel the melancholy
creeping back in – the irrational thinking, the conspiratorial notion that the
universe is working against my personal happiness. I’m of the lucky ones, who can sense it
coming and fight not to get sucked back in. Most aren’t so fortunate and get stuck in a
spin cycle of highs and lows. Be patient
with them. Be kind. Be compassionate. Do not judge.
It’s true, about misery loving company…so please share
your own stories or comments. My pity
party welcomes you...
