I guess it's about time to start filling you in about my story.
I was signed off work in December after getting to a point where I said to a friend 'I just can't do it any more'. He drove me straight to the doctors as soon as I said that. His actions right then, I believe, are the single reason why I ended up asking for help and realising there was a problem.
I think the standard cliche applies; 'things like this never happen to people like me'.
I've thought it, said it, felt it. I still feel an element of failure for having to give up my career but I am beginning to realise that I am not to blame.
I didn't manage to see the doctor that Monday but had a phone call from the duty doctor about an hour after I turned up in the doctor's waiting room. The doctor asked a few questions; how am I eating, sleeping, feeling etc. He told me to take the rest of the week off to get some rest and come in to see him at the end of the week.
The relief was immense. At the time though, I still didn't realise or acknowledge how ill I truely was.
Looking back, it is so obvious that I was at breaking point and really, truely unwell. How did no-one see it? I do hope I'd be able to identify it if I ever relapse again.
And now, nearly six months on, I'm completely different. So much stronger, more alert. I'm both eating and sleeping and am now beginning to feel more like myself. It's been a long journey. I'm still fragile. The slightest hint of something unexpected sends me in to a spiral. The illness is forever snapping at my heels, waiting to drag me down, engulf me, at the slightest hiccup. Only a few weeks ago I was inconsolable because I went to the supermarket to buy pasties and they didn't have any!
This shadow lurks constantly. I will learn to box it up, hide it away. But will this shadow ever cease to exist within me?
sr x
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