I've had a good few weeks, I even missed last week's blog (sorry about that). I've been in an almost normal mood, and enjoying it.
The cotton wool days came back this weekend. They're not terrible, they don't bring tears, or suicidal thoughts. Cotton wool days bring numbness. A feeling of being insulated from everything. People talk, and I hear them, but with a weird kind of time lag; like news correspondents reporting live from somewhere overseas. Cotton wool days feel like I'm wrapped in a filter that dilutes everything. Flavours are muted, emotions are faint, and colours are dulled.
Do you remember the first time you noticed the difference in sound when you duck your head underwater? It's a bit like that. An echoing kind of hollowness. I'm sure I appear a bit 'out of it' during my cotton wool days, and in some ways, I am.
Because while the cotton wool stops the outside coming in, it also fills me up. My thinking is slower. Moving takes more effort. I don't feel bad, I feel removed; as though I'm not really here. Talking to anyone is a trick of concentration. Hearing their words. Consciously giving them meaning. Working out a response, and finally making my body co-ordinate speech. In reality, the cotton wool probably only adds a micro-second to things. That micro-second feels like an eon.
Cotton wool softens the impact of everything. Which, when things are bad; is a good thing. When I'm trying to get closer to normality; it's like swimming in quicksand. So much effort is needed, it's a struggle to not fall back, and I don't want to. But because I HAVE had a period of 'good' lately, hopefully I've got enough oomph in me that I don't slide too far backward.
I don't mind the cotton wool days. They don't hurt. The days are slow, I'm tired as FUCK, and interacting with people is tiring; but I'm not hurting, because cotton wool also dampens the voice of Depression. It doesn't mute it completely, it simply adds a layer of padding between me and the dark.
Gotta be a good thing right?
Derri
The cotton wool days came back this weekend. They're not terrible, they don't bring tears, or suicidal thoughts. Cotton wool days bring numbness. A feeling of being insulated from everything. People talk, and I hear them, but with a weird kind of time lag; like news correspondents reporting live from somewhere overseas. Cotton wool days feel like I'm wrapped in a filter that dilutes everything. Flavours are muted, emotions are faint, and colours are dulled.
Do you remember the first time you noticed the difference in sound when you duck your head underwater? It's a bit like that. An echoing kind of hollowness. I'm sure I appear a bit 'out of it' during my cotton wool days, and in some ways, I am.
Because while the cotton wool stops the outside coming in, it also fills me up. My thinking is slower. Moving takes more effort. I don't feel bad, I feel removed; as though I'm not really here. Talking to anyone is a trick of concentration. Hearing their words. Consciously giving them meaning. Working out a response, and finally making my body co-ordinate speech. In reality, the cotton wool probably only adds a micro-second to things. That micro-second feels like an eon.
Cotton wool softens the impact of everything. Which, when things are bad; is a good thing. When I'm trying to get closer to normality; it's like swimming in quicksand. So much effort is needed, it's a struggle to not fall back, and I don't want to. But because I HAVE had a period of 'good' lately, hopefully I've got enough oomph in me that I don't slide too far backward.
I don't mind the cotton wool days. They don't hurt. The days are slow, I'm tired as FUCK, and interacting with people is tiring; but I'm not hurting, because cotton wool also dampens the voice of Depression. It doesn't mute it completely, it simply adds a layer of padding between me and the dark.
Gotta be a good thing right?
Derri
Comments
Post a Comment