“It’s ok to not be ok” is something I’ve said to myself and to others on many occasion, and it is. I know how important it is to be able to talk openly about depression and anxiety, how much it has helped me, and feeling that the stigma of mental illness is being broken down somewhat. But all the talking in the world will not stop it from being shit.
Being not ok makes me feel loneliness like no other, but not wanting to be around people. It fills me with anxiety each night as I dread what the twilight hours will hold. It makes me unnecessarily doubt the strength of my marriage, and makes my wonderful husband worry deeply about me. It makes me want to have my children close, but reduces my tolerance to zero. It makes me tell my best friends that I can’t see them because I’m not feeling sociable, or worse, make up lame excuses so I can be alone. It makes me want to go to bed early, despite the knowledge that I will lie awake for hours.
When I’m not ok I will doubt my abilities in everything I do, overeat and drink in desperation to feel like I can cope. I will suggest to my 4 year old that we have s rest after lunch so I can take a nap even though all she wants to do is have fun. It makes me over analyse everything, only to ever come up with negative answers. It feels like my heart is breaking even though I know I am loved.
I’ve dealt with depression long enough to know that this will pass, that there is light at the end of the tunnel and the negativity will give way at some point. I also know that I have the help of my wonderful GP at the end of the phone, so please don’t worry.
It’s ok not to be ok. It is. But sometimes it’s also really shit.