Sorry this is going to be one of the depressing one. Haven't been able to sleep until last night when I took two extra pills and finally knocked myself out. Woke up and had no desire to get up and face the day -just seemed overpoweringly difficult.

When the depression is about to hit it circles above your head - rather like a migraine - you know it is coming but there is bugger all you do about it. So it had been with me for the last few weeks. Just waiting to the black dog to strike, the dark clouds to encompass me and they have.

In this phase there is little I can but try and ride it out. I have been for a walk but the anxiety means I walk with shaking legs, too fast and in hurry to regain the safety of the flat. Did  go and see the doctor for my monthly chat took me three times of being sick and was the hardest fifty yards to the bus stop.

I wish I could say that this or that acts a catalyst; they don't. The darkness comes unbidden and unwelcome. Today I will stay in bed with the covers pulled over my head, I don't want to have to find 'bright and cheery' Joanna for she is just an act at times like these.

I'm blogging out of a desperate sense of fear and loneliness - at least if I reach some of you I have made a life affirming contact - I hope. My arms looks like train tracks - no real skin left to hurt. So the easiest thing to do is to roll up sausage like in the bed clothes and count the hours until sleep time.

Love and light to all of you and it you would wish the same thing back it might help.

 xxx

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Black dogs and Grey Skies

Sorry I have not been as prolific as  usual. The latest bout of medication seems to have taken away the need, or indeed the ability to write - so I have stopped it for a couple of days and am gradually beginning to feel things more clearly. It surely is a conundrum - with the meds I am fine, even tempered and respond cow like to even the most alarming events. Without the meds my mood crashes, I cut and feel every slight little thing - but I can write and think. What would you do?

I know my friend Gregg hates the term black dog for depression but it is just that that perches on your shoulder, the weight of and contradiction of hating something you love. Churchill knew his depression well. I would love to talk to him about it - I wonder if the war helped? Or maybe he just had days where to function normally was enough.

It is a strange thing this illness - it creeps upon you like an alley cat seeking food. The signs are there but so discreetly that it is easy to simply see them as oddities. Then WHAM! the sky falls and the black cloud descends and all is grey and foglike. To move is too difficult - to speak too much trouble and anyway what to say? "Bit depressed actually", to which the reply is usually, "Have you been for walk? Done some exercise? Spoken to.....?" Well, yes actually I have - the walk knackered me and I almost fell over when I started to hyperventilate. Exercise???? And I don't want to speak to anyone because it is always the same. I am down and they feel a sense of pity that they try not show.

Thank God at the moment I haven't reached the suicidal stage - it comes in stages. I am indifferent to life but too tired to even think about killing myself- but if I was to die tomorrow I doubt I would be disappointed.

And then there is the eternal dichotomy - I don't want people but I am lonely. What I really want is wake up and find that this has all been a horrid dream and that I am in my old (comfy) bed with Ben and Rosie asleep beside me. That I am not a vulnerable case number any more but just Joanna. Joanna who believed in good over evil, loving life and playing the glad game.

And oh yes - I want a dog! Not fussed if he is black - I can lead him round then.

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View in the Mirror

After finishing yesterday's blog I felt great - as if I had achieved something and yet I really hadn't done anything different. So, being a little self analytical, I had a think about it and realised it marked a change. We see ourselves, to a greater or lesser extent , mirrored in the eyes of others. I f you have been a beloved top brick, as I was, then the lack of a loving reflection can cause a form of psychosis: a breakdown of the self image.

What yesterday's blog taught me was that for every one person that sees me a waste of space, shot away or just a whining pain, there is someone who sees me - the me I used to know. Gregg has messaged me and made me laugh and been so incredibly  thoughtful to someone he hasn't seen for  over thirty years that his constant positive take on things has begun to rub off a bit. Another old friend, who only has a distant memory of a female he used to try and teach Karom to, sends me articles and videos and talks of good things always.


All of my friends have lined up over the last year and provided such support and love. Not just the ones who I have stayed in touch with but those I have been able to find using this interweb thing. It is amazing to me that so many of you keep reminding me that I am loved - that you care enough to do it. I love all of you too and don't say it nearly enough.

I wish I could say that the worst is over - that this disease, mental health issue, whatever has gone. I don't think it has and I don't think it ever will.  That seems to be my journey now - to deal with it and, hardest of all, to live with it. So many of you who have written to me and told me of your journeys speak of learning to accept what we have and deal with it as best we can. You humble me because all I do is howl at the moon and thrash about in an orgy of self pity.


Those of you who don't know what this is like find it uncomfortable when I am too frank but those of you who do recognise the need to try and make people understand. The self harming thing is a physical manifestation of how awful we feel. The worse the cuts and bruises and burns the calmer we become because there is something concrete to show - look I bleed, I bruise, I hurt. Those who don't feel this are appalled - how can you slice your arms with a knife - you can, I can, we can, because in that moment the pain is real and visible and tangible and no longer needs to be explained by the euphemistic, ' bit down' or 'black dog'.

I suppose I am trying to say that I would like you to continue to be understanding or try to and bear with me. It is one hell of a battle and how it ends I don't know  but with your help and love I must stand a better chance than I would alone. If I can continue to see the image that so many of you reflect back at me, if I can try and believe that woman does still exist, then I have a chance.


And those of us who talk of these things in long emails to each other and are afraid to say out loud and in the open how shit it can be - we have each other to reflect in - and we are all worthy of loving and being loved. I can say this because I am in an'up' phase- lets all try and remember it when we are 'down'.

And finally - sorry, it's not a small baba day -  to those of you who say it is all in the mind -yeah we know that thanks - and go for a walk - you go for a bloody walk - and pull yourself together - do you know what? You do not reflect me. You reflect your own issues and they are not mine/ours. Those people who offer kindness and love reflect me because that is what I would offer back.