I feel better. Better than I have in a really long time, which is strange. Sometimes, you just plod along in life and you don't realise that you've lost a part of yourself. You know, your sparkle, or whatever it is you want to call it. And recently, I've been a person I've not liked. I've felt so low, I can't ever imagine feeling lower. I've cried for days, smiled for one, and then cried again, and it felt like those tears wouldn't stop. Like they'd keep falling from my eyes, and I would drown in this wave of pain, and emotion, and it felt like it would never get better. But it did, and it has. And I finally feel happier than I have in a really long time, even before my dad left. I realise now that I was lost for a really long time, and my dad leaving didn't create that lost person. He hurt me, I can't deny that. But I was broken for a long time before he left us, I think he just triggered this depression, but I feel okay. I've let go of the burning anger. I still cry, I don't know if this will stop soon, but now when I cry, its not because I'm hurting, I cry for the memories. I cry for the times that I miss, and will never get back. I cry for the memory of a life when my dad was in my every day life. I cry because I crave those memories, the times when he'd smile and be happy, or we'd watch something together. And more than anything else, I cry for my mum. For the fact that she will never again have those times with my dad that they had before. I cry for the fact the next time we go on holiday as a family, he won't be there. They won't wake up at the crack of dawn, and go along to the beach and have a coffee. My dad will never spoil my mum rotten, treating her to pretty things that she deserves. I will never see my dad in his holiday mode, relaxed and happy, as my mum and him joke around and laugh. And I cry because I crave these moments. I want them back, but they're gone. They'll remain memories, and nothing more. And finally I cry because it's true, so true. You never realise what you had until you no longer have it. And at times, I took my dad for granted, and now he's gone, and I just want him to know I love him.
Saturday, 7 January 2012
I find that the mere word depression is depressing. It's such an ugly word, isn't it? I mean, is there even such a thing as depression? Or is it just that sometimes life is so shit, that we simply just can't pick ourselves up. In which case, it shouldn't be called depression, and instead the-lifes-shit-blues. TLSB for short, of course.
I am at the lowest point of my life. I've never been in such a horrible, dark place before. And I don't know whats wrong. The doctor called it 'acute reaction stress' but that doesn't seem to justify the way I feel. I mean, is it down to the fact my dad up and left? Or did this stem from the fact my life seems to have no meaning at the moment? A few months ago, I had University, and then the prospect of easily finding a job, and making lots of money. And yet here I am, months onwards, and its harder to get a job than I thought. I'm still slaving away in retail for a wage that doesn't allow me the luxury of not worrying about money. Or is it down to the fact I feel a spotty, fat, ugly mess? I have roots spouting out my head because I'm unsure of what colour to dye it next. The scales are actually on my side for once, but I feel fat, which can only be down to the comfort carbs I've been devouring lately. Hello, pot noodles, and chocolate. And as for getting fit, I can barely drag myself out of bed at a decent hour to have breakfast, let alone sweat it out to an 80 minute exercise DVD. And I no longwr have an interest in facebook. Once upon a time, it was my daily source of gossip. The first thing I'd do when I woke up would be to divuldge in my news feed to see what arguments were going down, or who was now in a realtionship, or more seriously, knocked up. The thought alone of deactivating my facebook and being without such constant updates horrified me. Surely you couldn't go cold turkey overnight? Surely there must be a facebook rehab? Well apparently not. And as I confirmed my deactivation, nothing changed. No heart convulsion of sheer shock took over my body. I wasn't short of breath, or having palpitations. I felt nothing.
So, I'm going to go crawl back into my bed, and hibernate underneath my duvet, and listen to Ben Howard, and hope that tomorrow, I feel better.