Day 8

I would deem today an annoying day. It started with a fear of death and the unknown. The sun was shining though and I didn't feel especially weighed down. Then the anxiety started - maybe I'm ok. Maybe I should do something useful? But I didn't want to do anything. This led to a lot of guilt and in turn depression. And then some more guilt - it is all my fault I am feeling like this; I wouldn't feel bad if I had just got up. I felt trapped. I wanted to get out of my head by doing something but I was worried I would prove I was fine if I did do something.

I compromised by arranging things for the afternoon but keeping the morning empty. To be fair, I am pretty certain I would have struggled to get up if I had had something on in the morning. Maybe? Urgh, all this doubt, confusion and guilt!

I tried to allow myself to relax and watch some iplayer. I got a bit emotional, although couldn't work out quite why. I felt a flood of guilt and uncertainty and lay there thinking for a bit, feeling I must be really lazy.

I persuaded myself to at least gather the rubbish in my room, before retreating to bed. It was a struggle to leave my duvet.

Back in bed, I managed to get myself to read some of the CBT book. I got onto the bit about 'difficult' patients who tell you they can't stand the hopelessness and despair but also welcome the predictability of depression as they fear the uncertainty of what life might throw at them if they engage in it fully. This reassured me as I always feel guilty about fearing recovery. It seems it stems from a not-abnormal anxiety. I think it would be better for me to practice being self-compassionate, rather than condemning.

I read some more before getting worried that I might be feeling ok. Then I felt I had had enough and didn't want to read any more. I lay there burying myself into the bed.

When I finally went out, there were definite ups and downs. One particular low came while babysitting. I was reading a book on depression and it made me realise how much worse I could be. This stupidly made me feel terrible and I just didn't want to do anything but sleep. I realised that actually if I had just thought about it, of course I could be far worse - I have been. I remember weeks where I literally did not know how I was going to get through the next ten minutes, let alone the next week. Now there are moments of despair and times of hopelessness but nothing like what it was. And for that I should be immensely grateful. Also, these things are not black or white, all or nothing things. Just because I could be worse doesn't mean I am ok or I don't deserve to be called depressed. It does not make me a fraud.

I think depression can look different at different times. Sometimes it might involve complete lack of interest in anything with an empty feeling. Other times it may be more an overwhelming sense of sadness. Other times something else.

I was in such a bad mood cycling home, not helped I am sure by the rain and coldness. I was also tired which will have made a difference. I felt angry. I'm not especially used to feeling angry, but I am noticing it more and more lately.