It's a week short of 4 years since my first blog talking about the things in my head. For most of those 4 years, I worked hard on not really getting anywhere, but the last six months or so has seen a lot of change.
I suppose you could say I had a 'break-through', when really, it was as simple getting more information. A C.T. scan in January found damaged brain tissue, pointing to an undiagnosed stroke at some point in the past. This led to my doctor being thrilled about it, because now I qualified for a different kind of funding, and he could refer me to a neurologist. That has led to being under the care of a psychiatrist who specializes in how brain injury and historic trauma interact - and that in turn has led to a specialist psychologist, who is funded to help and support me pretty much for ever.
I'm getting the best care I could ask for, at a time when I was attempting to make a change anyway, so I'm not resisting it, and progress is happening.
When I began this blog, I equated navigating the depths of Depression with traversing a mine field. Now, I suspect that I might be near an edge and I think I can see a path out. It's overgrown, unused, and it looks more than a little scary, but it's there, and there seems to be a way out of this at the end of it. It's not a straight line, I've already doubled back on myself a time or two, and some of the tangles I have to get through are taking a lot of effort. I have some tools with me, a MUCH higher dose of medication (because I have PTSD, not just Depression), a specialized health squad, an excellent cheerleading team featuring my sister, extended family, and a handful of the best friends a girl could ask for, along with.... drumroll please:
My own stubborn-ness.
Re-appearing in the last few months has been a shadow of my former self. My mule-headed nature has reared up again. I'm having opinions, I'm humming to the radio, and I'm even getting bored! I'm going to need to reach for that stubborn streak a fair bit in the future I think. The path ahead means walking through, and dealing with, some of the darker chapters in the 'Book of Derri', and if I can't beat them, I have to find a way to stop them doing more damage to my future, whatever that may turn out to be, and I still have to get out of the minefield. Most of the dangers here are signposted, I'm close to the fence, and I have help to get through, but there are still unknown mines here.
I say unknown mines, and that's not entirely true. I know them, I just haven't learned all the triggers yet, so some things could still blow up in my face and set me back again. That's happened in the last week. Covid has reared it's Delta variant head here, we're in lock-down, and the lack of contact between me and my children (who will be pretty much grown-ups now), which is already a massive weight on my mind, is exacerbated again with worry. A definite speed-bump in what had been a smooth run of improvement over several weeks.
Concentrating on the good stuff, I've visited friends, talked to people, and even socialized with my neighbours. I've seen vast improvement in my sleeping (although the beginning of the football season has interrupted that significantly), I've been eating vegetables more regularly, and I even ate a few apples last week (eurgh fruit). So despite having a 'difficult to get out of bed' week, there's been significant progress overall.
It's been scary, seeing these slight things making a remarkable difference, it's made me realize quite HOW far I'd fallen from myself, and I've begun to see why my cheerleading team have been working so hard to keep 'me' within reach. The silver lining, is that I know how hard my friends have fought for me, and that I'm incredibly lucky to have them
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I'm scared. After so long with no change, the thought of leaving my safe zone makes me nervous. What if I really am as useless as I've told myself for so long? Yes. I know this is the Depression talking. Yes. I know I'm not useless. But. What if I am?
Derri
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