Last night I slept on a sofa. As a young professional woman who takes her job seriously, and is no longer a teenager/student, this is not my usual choice for a Thursday night's sleep! But I did choose (in fact requested!) the sofa* in preference to coming home and sleeping in my own perfectly comfy double bed.
The reason is simple. I couldn't face being by myself. Every night this week I have come home and quietly drunk by myself in order to 'chill out'. Not a healthy approach, and I could sense where it was headed. And so I wanted company. Just to be around people I trust. As I didn't trust myself to be by myself.
And that's the stark point of realisation. I'm still not well. Not yet. I'm better. But I've still got a long way to go. I guess looking at it sensibly when something has been 10-20 years in the making it is going to take more than 3 months to sort it out! But realising that is hard work.
I thought the most difficult thing part of all this was admitting to everyone in June/July this year that I had clinical depression and telling them all about it. And it was hard. Telling your closest friends and family that you have taken an overdose is not a walk in the park! But part of me thinks that the point I have reached now is actually harder.
The initial reaction when I told everyone in June/July was amazing. So many people were kind and supportive. They wanted to see me for tea or for dinner. They invited me over to their homes at the drop of a hat. They cooked for me. They came and watched crap TV with me. And I needed that. I was having days where getting out of bed was a challenge, and if I made it to the sofa I was winning. Or I was crying non-stop for the better part of a day. I simply couldn't function.
Now - 3 months on - I am back at work, I am doing my housework, I am getting up in the morning (although it still takes effort), I am going out. To anyone who doesn't know what happened I look fine. And so the suggestions of coffee/dinner have got less frequent. Because I appear, to all intents and purposes, to be ok. And I am coping.
And that is the difficult thing. I am back to where I was pre-June breakdown. I can maintain a 'normal' life like this. But I'm not alright. Each day I am fighting to keep myself 'normal'. To appear fine. To not let the awful thoughts in my head cloud what I am doing. Everything requires concentration and patience. I have to be strong every moment of every day. And that means that things still aren't right. I am just doing a very good job of making it appear that everything is fine. That I'm ok. That I'm back to 'normal'.
When I was talking to one of my best friend about how I am at the moment - and how effectively I am 'masking' things - he told me that I am basically lying to everyone. Unfortunately he is right. Pretending that I am fine and being 'strong' 100% of the time means that even those closest to me (apart from one or two) don't actually know how I am feeling. And if I'm being entirely straightforward I am also lying to myself. I am convincing myself that I am fine and can get through all this and do it by myself. But actually I'm not fine, and I can't cope alone.
The last time I had a mental health crisis was in 2009. Another overdose and severe depression. I had a series of CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) sessions which got me back to 'normal'. And once I was back to 'normal' I thought that that was enough. I was back to where I had been just before the overdose. Coping and appearing fine. Now clearly I wasn't fine as there was a lot still going on 'behind the scenes' in my head, and 3-4 years later I find myself in the same place: having taken an overdose, been diagnosed with depression, but then back to 'normal' within 3 months.
Although I suppose this time it is not the same place because this time I know that being back to 'normal' isn't good enough. And I am admitting that I still have further to go and I still need help.
And that's why I chose the sofa.
* For the record I am short, the sofa was long and therefore pretty comfy, and I am incredibly grateful to the two kind people who allowed me to sleep on it.
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