Bad days and winters

Bad days...

Some days are just bad days. Sometimes you might just be having a hard time. It might be a blip on a generally upward slope.

Apart from its not that simple.

Depression sure feels like a large charcoal crayon that scribbles out everything good in your picture without asking.

But it's not that simple.

I woke up one morning earlier this month feeling disorientated and anxious. Like I had repeatedly for several days.

I felt blank. Like I'd been bleached.
Everything was bleak.
I was confused and angry at every little thing.
I couldn't bear how cold it was in the house.
I couldn't bear the thought of showering and being wet and cold.
And I felt like I couldn't move. Like all I could do was lie there. Every suggestion my husband made to help was a personal assault, I was in pain and suffering, and I wanted everything to stop.

When I'd woken up stupidly early I'd gone to check my phone, for the time, apart from it was flat.
It had been left charging when I went to sleep, it wasn't charged.
My husband fixed this for me, he ran and found a charger and plugged things in.
And I should have been grateful... I was grateful... But I couldn't feel grateful. It's hard to express genuine thanks when you're having a hard time working out if you are functioning.

I found, as I started to take tiny steps, I was in fact functional enough to get dressed...  I skipped the shower...  I couldn't find the reserves to wash thoroughly too.
I found I could drink a cup of tea.
I managed to put how I was feeling into enough words to send an email to a friend.
A cry for help...
A cry... on that day when there had been other days I've woken up ready to sob...  But they weren't bad days.

And that day wasn't a bad day either.

I got to work.
I taught some classes.

On my lunch break I got some water, grapes, snacks and crackers from the shop... I walked there.. In the cold.

I called my husband and apologised for my irritability... And the yelling I had done that morning.

I smiled...  I saw something bright green in the hedges and realised I was staring at a real life intact ball of mistletoe.... That had obviously been noticed by no one during the festive season.

Small thing, a tiny glimpse of joy.

I clung to this image of the bright green amongst the stiff grey branches and thought about how depression is a lot like a winter... The need to shut down and rest, to reserve energy until things are warmer and brighter. It's sensible... We don't punish the trees for winter... They are within a system where it makes sense for them to rest. Shouting at the Sun to spend more time with us doesn't do any good either... Sometimes the right behaviour is the one that conserves and heals.

The distinction I have learnt to make is that my bad days, have not all been bad days in that they're not exclusively bad... It's possible to experience glimpses of joy in the gloom... If I look carefully just now at my precious Acer in my garden I can see the buds ready and prepared for the eventual spring... And where I can't see under the ground she has roots holding her up.

There has not yet been a winter so harsh as to destroy her... Me neither.

Sometimes I'm just too bouncy...

I'm in Year 3 at primary school. I'm in the Juniors now... I'm not supposed to ever ask to leave class for the toilet any more... Our bladders should be made of steel apparently, I think this rule is ridiculous.

We're learning to write 'joined-up'. Last year we were the first year to do the Year 2 SATs pilot. I was in an extra class for the "gifted and talented" pupils in the class... Handwriting went towards the level so we were taught to join up...

I enjoyed joining-up in pencil.

But now I'm in the Juniors and I've been given a pen... And apparently I'm not managing very well with it... My teacher wants to teach the whole class to do joining-up... So I'm told to stop joining-up my way and do it his way... It's difficult and I can't read what I've written.

I'm often told not to rock on my chair... Apparently I'll fall backwards and crack my head on the floor, or a table, or something. I've been rocking on my chair, I've been shuffling on my chair... We're meant to be quiet... We're writing something (22 years later I'm not sure what exactly is was we were writing) but my teacher has had enough of my rocking and fidgeting, and my talking, and fussing, and general exuberance. And I'm going to have to do without my chair for the rest of the lesson. If I can't learn to sit still I can see what it's like with no chair at all...

Everyone else still has their chair...

I try not to cry, to not be totally embarrassed, but I am, I'm flushed and angry, and I really was not rocking on my chair just to annoy the teacher.

I try writing while standing up and but I'm taller than every other girl in the class.. And I'm taller than the 6 boys as well.... I'm the tallest and I'm trying to stand at a desk and carry on working and everyone is looking at me.

Tall and chair-less...

I decide that I'll have to crouch I tuck one leg under the other and I spend the rest of the lesson balanced... I am now definitely being defiant... All I can think of is annoying the teacher because he embarrassed me. So I'm determined to balance AND do my work... Balancing and being able to write become the most important two tasks in the world... And I think that the teacher should know that I'm perfectly okay WITHOUT my chair... And so I tell him so... Not a good idea... He's more exasperated than ever and even though I get my chair back, eventually however, it's clear that I'm just too bouncy.

Later on I'm in Year 6... My parents are good friends with the teacher of the parallel class and her husband (he and my father were colleagues.)

I'm now the tallest girl in the school, I still talk too much, I still have too many opinions, I still shuffle about on my chair and don't finish my work. But still seem to learn everything I need to... Other than correct spelling, punctuation and handwriting. I have yet to finish a whole book from the reading library... (In the whole school year, I read two books, eventually)

It's Christmas, I'm at school late a lot for rehearsals and events... The night of the Carol Service, it's late (past 9) and I'm still going strong, I've played my flute, I've played my recorder, I've sung, we're all standing around... Mum, Dad, Jackie (the teacher) and John (her husband) and I am involved in the adults' conversation and I am being polite, but voicing my opinions and (for some moments of peace for my parents) I'm sent to fetch some mince pies.

I return to the circle and Jackie says (because it's the end of term, and they are all teachers and teachers work crazy hours)
"Aleks, I don't know what you're on, but I think we could all do with some!"

I'm 10... I am not entirely sure what she means, but I'm pretty certain that she wouldn't... I seem to elicit an "Oh no, 'too much Aleks'" response from most adults and even though they think I don't understand I'm like an over-wound spring, I totally do, I just can't do anything about it.

This morning I arranged to meet a friend, someone I've known for years online, but have never met in person. We meet at 10... I have a coffee and then something to eat and another coffee.... For the two and a half hours I talk almost nonstop... I talk with my hands, I draw invisible diagrams on the table with my fingers and I'm vaguely aware that I'm jiggling my own legs occasionally. But I'm engaged and the time flies by, and soon we're walking down the high street, and hugging, and saying "Goodbye" and "We must do this again soon."

I do some shopping and come home and still have buckets of energy... And I realise I need to pace myself.

Today is my first day working for myself. Not to make money or to become famous. But to be able to balance out the requirements of my work, with the requirements of my own life and wellbeing.

Now I'm 30, I can go to the toilet when I wish, if I want to rock on my chair, I can, no one is going to mark my handwriting. As long as I harm no one else I can, within the shape of my Friday every week, work towards my own goals and objectives. And I'm overwhelmed and I'm so bouncy... I am occasionally 'too much Aleks' even for myself. But it's good harness-able bounce... Energy that, if I spend it wisely, can make a difference in the world.

So I'll try, and even if I can't change the world it will make a world of difference to me.