Day 2

OK so today's list will hopefully be a bit easier.

 

1) I kept calm and focussed during my conversation with my mother last night.

2) I did some work on my essay for Friday.

3) I went to bed and read for a while on time.

4) I woke before my alarm this morning.

5) I finally set up my new phone last night.

6) I did the washing up this morning.

7) I put all the rubbish in the bin this morning.

8) I'm wearing a pink top today.

9) I remember to take both sets of pills this morning.

10) I hung out the clothes that were washed yesterday.

 

I know this probably seems childish and pathetic to some people, but it really helps me when I get depressed to look at all the positive things I've done in a day. It's one of the things that pulled me out the last time. I can't surround myself with negativity at the best of times cos it drags me down, so when I'm already down, I'm looking to surround myself with positivity to help rather than hinder.

 

Depression isn't a sexy disease. There will probably never be a huge research drive for it, and there's rarely a major public figure who will admit to suffering from it. It's very difficult to understand if you don't suffer from it, even if there is someone close to you, a member of your family who suffers. My own mother still believes that there must be something to push you into depression, a major drama or hassle. There doesn't. Sometimes the chemicals in your brain tip and dip and there's very little you can do about it. It's incredibly frustrating for the person suffering to have to try and explain all this to someone who frankly, doesn't get it and probably never will.

 

I may have to turn around to my mother in a few days and tell her to back off cos the constant questioning and needling doesn't help. A constant reappraisal of my condition doesn't help. Just because I'm on medication doesn't make me a failure. It makes me human, a human with a disease that needs treating. That's life. If it were malaria or something like that, I wouldn't even be having these discussions because that's something physical, something obvious. 'Feeling a bit down' is not depression and never will be. I feel angry at my mother for constantly questioning me – why can't she accept that I have an illness and I need to treat it. It's not because I drink too much – I rarely drink anymore. It's not because I live alone, or because I don't see friends every day, or any of that. It's a disease. It needs to be treated and cared for, not brushed under the carpet.

 

But it still makes me angry my mother won't just accept that. It's like I'm not worthy to be her daughter if there's something wrong with me.