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The Hulk, the guilt trip and the Facebook “friend”

I seem to be going through my irrational angry phase..again. So there was a brain hulk in my last post, I think I am now turning into the actual hulk 😠

My last post touched on this and these awful “campaigns” the very words annoy me. “I’m going to make a bet”..then throwing in for good measure “without being pessimistic, that out of my friends, that less than 6 will take the time out to put this on their wall to help raise awareness..”

To me, it’s saying put this chain mail shit on your wall so everyone thinks you’re a good person. And then you’ll have someone else putting this on because if they don’t, people might think they’re not a good person. Then you have to say “done” in the comments to then have the whole of  Facebook think you’re a good person for taking 2 seconds out of their life to copy and paste words from other people’s mouths. Does putting this on your wall give you some kind of badge of honour which validates you as a ‘good person?’ Personally I think it’s horseshit. Sorry for the bad language but I did say that I am in hulk mode..

Is it just me? Does anyone else feel patronised when seeing these kind of posts? Or am I just kicking shit over people that seemingly would genuinely want to help? I don’t know what the answer is but it certainly plucks a nerve with me. 

I think if people genuinely wanted to help people in their dark times then they would and wouldn’t need to shout this kind of crap all over Facebook. 

OK, maybe wanting to help and actually helping are on very different ends of the spectrum as i think it does take a very special kind of person to actually be able to help someone. Someone like me who doesn’t know how to be helped.

You may have already guessed that I’m in a pretty pessimistic mood today. And I’m not going to apologise for it, I’ve had a rough two weeks that I think would shake anyone. In a nutshell, I’ve had a few trips to the hospital myself as I have had metal stuck in my eyeball..don’t ask me how, I still don’t know – it made me feel guilty because I had to take time out of work to get it sorted because let’s face it, not something that would just go away on its own (4 layers deep in my’s only 5 layers deep to go begin with) but the guilt was palpable.

What if my boss doesn’t believe me, despite my swelling eyelids? What if he now thinks I’m unreliable. I offered to pick up emails from home, he definitely must think I’m lying now because how can I pick up emails from home if I can’t go into work? He keeps asking how I am with a face full of pity yet suspicion. 

The logical part of my brain is telling me he’s not suspicious or thinks any of those things but doesn’t stop me having intense anxiety about it. 

My eye healed (yay) and can now wear contacts again and make up for that matter. Wearing my glasses and not a stitch of make up has never made me feel so ugly! It’s amazing what just a little bit of eyeliner and mascara can do for your self esteem but a week without it and glasses, safe to say even shrek himself wouldn’t have given me a second glance. But all is good now. 

Then  Friday gone, I left work early (used some flexi as I didn’t dare tell my boss the real reason) my poor cat had a poorly eye and had to be taken to the vet, she had a hemorrhage behind her eye and couldn’t see her eye colour properly for blood. She also has a heart murmur, a dodgy thyroid and potentially a problem with her kidneys. 

I could have honestly sat and cried my eyes out but didn’t want to break down in the vets. If I started crying I feared I wouldn’t stop. This pic was taken on the Saturday and luckily started to look better but she’s still quite poorly. She’s enjoying being fussed over and being given lots of cream (to cleverly put her painkiller in) so fingers crossed whatever ails her is treatable.

I stayed in all day with her on Saturday, I didn’t dare leave the house, but also being cooped up all day makes me very restless but it was nice to have cuddles with her.

Sunday, I decided sooty was well enough to be left alone for a little bit while I ran some errands. I treat myself to a piece of steak for my tea, been craving one for ages. Cooking away in the kitchen, sat down to have it, looked at my phone to see I had 2 missed calls and a voicemail from my Grandma..without even hesitating I ran out the house to hers (she only lives next door but one..thankfully) to find that she had a fall, bashed all of her face in quite badly, hurt her arms and was sat sobbing. To say that I am not good in these situations is an understatement. I think i ran in circles in the front room for a good 5 minutes until my brain kicked in and allowed me to do something. I rang my mum from work and luckily she was able to take control of the situation. My mum is amazing in times like this. I helped to clean my grandma’s face and made her a cup of tea while we waited for an ambulance to check her over.

I’m mad at myself because I didn’t hear the phone ringing. I’m mad because I didn’t know what to do. I’m mad because there isn’t that much anyone can do, it was an accident. I’m mad that she’s getting to an age where falls can be fatal and I’m powerless to stop it. I can’t be with her 24/7 and even if I was I’d probably annoy her. She loves me but she hates people fussing over her so I couldn’t watch her like a hawk even if I could. I get where my stubborn, independent streak comes from!

I’m mad at everything for no real reason except that I just am. Gotta ride that wave again and hope it passes sooner than later. The fog is definitely not helping matters because I can’t put a straight thought together at the best of times never mind when there is all this going on.

I think if you looked up the word unlucky in the dictionary, mind and my mums face would be alllll over it. Luckily having a good rant on this blog has tired me enough to try and sleep..need to curb the anger, I’m told it gives you wrinkles..oh joy.

Night all x

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The Borrower and the Hulk..

Anastacia, (the singer had hits in the early 2000’s) had a particular song ‘Sick and tired’ and that song hasn’t really struck that much of a chord until today. I mean it was a great song back in the day but that song jumped into the forefront of my brain earlier, whilst sat in the bath of all places. The line of “I’m sick and tired, of always feeling sick and tired” hit me like a bus.

That line, if i were to personify it, has been like a borrower. You know them tiny people that live in the skirting board or whatever. Always there but never quite seen or heard because everyone else is normal size. That borrower has been whispering them words for a while now but I haven’t really heard/listened to them. Today however, that little borrower must have eaten some magic ‘big pills’, turned into the hulk and shouted that line in my face. 


The borrower had obviously become fed up of being ignored and needed to be seen and heard! But I’m glad it showed up. It made my brain connect some dots and made me realise something I was trying my hardest to ignore. The fog that is depression is slowly creeping back in. 

It’s never completely disappeared but I’d say in the last 6 months or so, it’s only been every so slightly misty as opposed to full on thick, black, ‘you need your full beam and fog lights on to see through it’ fog. 

I thought it was getting a little darker outside just after Christmas and thought I best nip this in the bud now so I went to see a counsellor. It always makes me feel a bit guilty going to see someone as I feel that talking about myself for 45mins is a bit over indulgent. Or sometimes I don’t get to say the things I really want to say because the logical side of my brain is telling me it’s just a feeling and not reality and not to bother anyone with my neurotic thoughts. Nevertheless, I took the first step (for what feels like the thousandth time) to tackle it bit by bit. That being said, the “counsellor” spoke about herself more than what I consider appropriate given the nature of her position and then called me Lisa.. My name is Laura. I think some counsellors (or at least this one) can be more harming then healing. It made me reaffirm my thinking that no one really gives a shit and they’re just going through the motions and letting me go on. My best friend said that to me once. Well she’s obviously not a best friend of mine anymore to say the least, but for all the years I valued her support as she was always there for me (via email, she lives in Inverness, bit of a trek to where I am) and I was always there for her when she was in the throws of an eating disorder,  told me, quite matter of factly that she was ‘going through the motions with me, and just letting me talk until I just ran out of steam’

I felt winded when she said that. I felt like scolded child that was cowering under the words she had just said. I opened up to someone who I thought genuinely was willing to hear how I was feeling, but it  turns out that she knew I’d shut up and stop going on about it all eventually. So needless to say, I find it really hard to talk about how I’m feeling and so I try to bury it. Pretend everything is fine.

 I am, what they call, ‘functionally depressed’. I don’t lay in bed for days crying  (anymore!) I don’t always look bedraggled and haven’t stopped showering or bathing. I still put on a bit of makeup everyday and smile when I go to work but if I’m honest, outwardly it’s all an act. If I could indulge myself a few days/weeks of being in bed and feeling sorry for myself until the fog lifts slightly then I would , but I can’t.  I can’t let it win. I also can’t let it win because then people really would know. Am I scared of people really knowing what’s wrong with me? Yes. Petrified in fact.

I sometimes think how people at alcoholics anonymous might feel when they’re at a support group, stand up and say “Hi I’m Steve, and I’m an alcoholic” and everyone would say in unison “Hi Steve!!” and then would welcome him into a group that gave him a sense of belonging and he could breathe a sigh of relief because he said the words out loud in front of people that understood him.

I don’t know if that actually happens but if it does, I bet it’s a weight off the mind actually admitting you have a problem. Liberating in fact. I can’t do that. 

A select few of my friends know snippets of ‘the fog’ but it’s literally only things that I feel I have to tell them for fear of them thinking I’m a horrible, ignorant person and that I only want to socialise or have any involvement with them when it suits me. That is not the case. I hate myself for not being able to hold a conversation very long with them or at all – or turning down an invite of a night out or whatever because I’m absolutely crippled with anxiety and I end up in bed feeling like im needing a week of sleep for even thinking I could go out. Sometimes I can swing dramatically the other way (I’d take that mood over this one any day) where I feel I can take on the world, I can’t stop talking, I’m overly excited about everything and anything and genuinely loving life. No I’m not bipolar by the way. Doctor said my swings between high and low aren’t extreme enough to be bipolar..😑 but what can they do to help? Evidently not a lot.🖒….🖕

In short, I’m absolutely exhausted. 

I see that there seems to be a lot in the media these days about mental health which can only be a good thing ?? I guess it’s easy for me to be pessimistic about it as I’ve not felt like I’ve had the help Ive needed, or more importantly I don’t feel I can ask for help so it’s as bit of a double edged sword really. Can’t get help if you don’t ask for it. But when I don’t know what I need, it’s hard to know where to look. But the one thing that is really boiling my blood at them moment  (now this is just my opinion, and I hope it would help someone if they really needed it) is the amount of statuses I see on Facebook “I’m always here to listen #mentalhealthmatters. Copy and paste this to show that if anyone needs to talk, you’re not alone”

Does anyone else find this patronising or is it just me because I’m reluctant to talk to someone? I guess it just says a lot about the ‘friends’ I keep on Facebook as the people who I see put this on, wouldn’t even stop and say hello in the street if I saw them let alone welcome me to have and chat with. I really should have a Facebook cull!!

It definitely is an agenda that needs more attention, but what the answer is I don’t know and I’ve been a sufferer for the last 15 years on and off.

But in an attempt to end this post on a more of a positive note, I feel considerably calmer writing this down. Maybe I need to do this more. I’m not doing this for ‘likes’ or shares because quite frankly I couldn’t give a shit if no one reads this. But if anyone does, and thinks ‘hey, I know exactly how you feel’ then join my support group..I’ll start it off.

Hi, my name is Laura and I suffer with depression..

….and exhale


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