Christmas. With Depression. It can be done, it's just not easy.
I've survived a few Christmases now, and it's been brutal every year. On one hand, because it's a known time for triggers, and all the support services are bolstered, it's easier to survive. On the other, well, it's Christmas - and every single trigger you can imagine, is out in force.
Engaging in reality at Christmas is like being stuck out in a hail storm. There's no escape. Getting randomly struck by missiles that vary from a slight sting, to pulverizing. There's no predicting the hail. No way of knowing if I'll get through it relatively unscathed, or punishingly bruised and bleeding. Turn on the radio, and I might get a song designed to make me think about starving children in Africa - it feeds the Depression with the knowledge that the world is full of suffering and there's nothing I can do about it, and my existence or lack of it is irrelevant to the problem; or, I might get a song romanticizing Christmas with a lover - feeding the Depressing the awareness of how difficult I am to love, and how I'll always be alone; OR there might be a song my kids love - and the Depression just sits on my chest until I can't breathe - and that's just the radio.
Turn on the television, and get bombarded with images of everything Depression tells me I don't deserve. Family. Laughter. Love.
Go outside, and the Depression points out that I'm the only one not in a group of friends, or out with family, or celebrating with colleagues.
There are individual triggers too. My Mum loved Christmas; she made it such an event, and despite her (allowed) stress, made it epic every year; Christmas is when I miss her the most. It's a time of year when I realize how much I'm missing about my children, I don't know what they wished for, I don't know what traditions they're keeping, I don't know if they woke up excited at silly o'clock; I wish I knew. I have an entire other family (through my Father) who live on the other side of the globe, who have strong bonds with each other, and it adds to my feelings of isolation.
Survival this year, was a group effort. On my part, I stayed away from most Christmas-y things. My only nods to the season - I put up some sparkly lights in lieu of a tree, and watched Die Hard. My family made certain I knew I was wanted. I was invited to everyone's house, and no-one took offense that I preferred to stay home. My old boss (a wonderful bloke), took me out for lunch, and I can't explain how much it meant to know I hadn't been forgotten, and that I somehow deserved his time. I even received unexpected gifts. Gifts that spoke of caring. Not generic 'gift packs', gifts that said loud and clear that I had been thought of specifically.
So while Christmas is a time for living dangerously close to a crumbling cliff edge; I'm lucky enough to have people around me who have managed to hang on strongly enough to keep me from falling.
I wish they didn't have to. I wish that the gaping vacuum of Depression that lives inside me, wasn't constantly drawing me into the void. I wish that I had the capacity to give back as much love as I am given. I wish I could find words to explain how much these gestures from people mean. I wish I could accept them without feeling guilty for needing them. I wish I could find a way to make the Depression go away. I wish.
I wish Santa could grant these kind of wishes.
D
I've survived a few Christmases now, and it's been brutal every year. On one hand, because it's a known time for triggers, and all the support services are bolstered, it's easier to survive. On the other, well, it's Christmas - and every single trigger you can imagine, is out in force.
Engaging in reality at Christmas is like being stuck out in a hail storm. There's no escape. Getting randomly struck by missiles that vary from a slight sting, to pulverizing. There's no predicting the hail. No way of knowing if I'll get through it relatively unscathed, or punishingly bruised and bleeding. Turn on the radio, and I might get a song designed to make me think about starving children in Africa - it feeds the Depression with the knowledge that the world is full of suffering and there's nothing I can do about it, and my existence or lack of it is irrelevant to the problem; or, I might get a song romanticizing Christmas with a lover - feeding the Depressing the awareness of how difficult I am to love, and how I'll always be alone; OR there might be a song my kids love - and the Depression just sits on my chest until I can't breathe - and that's just the radio.
Turn on the television, and get bombarded with images of everything Depression tells me I don't deserve. Family. Laughter. Love.
Go outside, and the Depression points out that I'm the only one not in a group of friends, or out with family, or celebrating with colleagues.
There are individual triggers too. My Mum loved Christmas; she made it such an event, and despite her (allowed) stress, made it epic every year; Christmas is when I miss her the most. It's a time of year when I realize how much I'm missing about my children, I don't know what they wished for, I don't know what traditions they're keeping, I don't know if they woke up excited at silly o'clock; I wish I knew. I have an entire other family (through my Father) who live on the other side of the globe, who have strong bonds with each other, and it adds to my feelings of isolation.
Survival this year, was a group effort. On my part, I stayed away from most Christmas-y things. My only nods to the season - I put up some sparkly lights in lieu of a tree, and watched Die Hard. My family made certain I knew I was wanted. I was invited to everyone's house, and no-one took offense that I preferred to stay home. My old boss (a wonderful bloke), took me out for lunch, and I can't explain how much it meant to know I hadn't been forgotten, and that I somehow deserved his time. I even received unexpected gifts. Gifts that spoke of caring. Not generic 'gift packs', gifts that said loud and clear that I had been thought of specifically.
So while Christmas is a time for living dangerously close to a crumbling cliff edge; I'm lucky enough to have people around me who have managed to hang on strongly enough to keep me from falling.
I wish they didn't have to. I wish that the gaping vacuum of Depression that lives inside me, wasn't constantly drawing me into the void. I wish that I had the capacity to give back as much love as I am given. I wish I could find words to explain how much these gestures from people mean. I wish I could accept them without feeling guilty for needing them. I wish I could find a way to make the Depression go away. I wish.
I wish Santa could grant these kind of wishes.
D
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