Waiting for brighter days

Blogging might also be about saving my state of mind for posterity and for myself. This applies also one’s mental and physical health. Besides, writing might be about taking a burden off one’s chest, giving some relief in despondency.

With the black dog barking in my head I strive to pursue a normal life. Getting up from bed, going to work, socialising, doing sports, not letting this shitty pest overcome you, although it tries hard. As I am writing this, I realise those who haven’t experienced it, are unlikely to be sympathetic. If a fever or a physical pain causes difficulties in functioning it seems natural, but when a mental pain, caused by a defunct brain, plays havoc with you, it is harder to grasp.

Self-awareness raised over years of struggling the depression is paying off now. I see several upsides. I have no s*****e thoughts, I have no feeling of guilt, my self-esteem is intact. I realise pessimism in my head is about flawed chemistry in my brain and once medicines begin to work, my spirits will be somewhat lifted.

Talking about pharmaceuticals, I have taken up a full (though lowest therapeutic) dose since 23 September, hence it is too early to talk about any outcomes (they should appear after 2 – 6 weeks, provided they work this time and the dosage is sufficient). Fortunately, dryness in my mouth is the only major side effect.

Waking up early, i.e. around 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. and inability to fall asleep again is exhaustive at the moment and once I begin to sleep more restfully, both body and mind should revive.

Anxiety keeps me company from the very moment of waking up. It wanes after I get up, but then fluctuates over the day. Sometimes basic activities trigger fear, which I realise is unjustified and needs to be fought over.

The feeling of meaninglessness does not let go and most probably will not ease off for a while. Questions such as: “what for?” (“po co?”), “and so what then?” (“no i co z tego?”) or assertion “it makes no sense anyway” (“to i tak bez sensu”) keep me company nearly all time round. Nevertheless I do things despite them. I try to rationalise it and tell myself I’m better off with doing things rather than refraining from them, but it sparks little forward-looking optimism.

Doing my bit for a while does not seem sufficient to find my self-fulfilment, therefore I aim to get by for a while and not pressure myself to "get my act together" too quickly. The “prolonged sadness” will be endured, with some fortitude, but also a proper dose of leniency towards myself.