You're Not Alone

So, I'm not very good at this blog-writing thing. I've honestly lost count of the times I've opened 'New Post' and it's sat in a tab on my browser all day while I distract myself in the wonderland that is the internet. It's not the first time I've experienced the inability to write. My ambition, for as long as I care to remember, was to be a novelist. Unless being a novelist means sitting in front of a blank screen banging your head on the desk, I haven't achieved it, yet.

The hardest thing about my personal experience with depression has been the slow eradication of concentration, until eventually it became a struggle to read a book or even watch a whole film. I miss reading the way I used to: devouring a whole book at one sitting, but I'm coming to terms with the fact it might be a long time before I'm back to that, if ever. Some days I get a glimpse of how it used to be, but most I'm barely able to read even a whole newspaper article. Which is why I spend most of my time on the internet. There's a lot online to distract my addled brain; twitter and facebook are my lifelines to the world. And there is just enough interaction to make me feel I'm achieving something, even if it's only passing another level of my new physics-based-puzzler addiction.

So, what have I been doing in the vast time between my last post and this? Well, my financial position is stabilising, somewhat. I've stopped having to borrow money from my sister to pay my rent. I have housing support, SSP from work and working tax credit in the pipeline. Forms are not fun. Forms are not fun even when you can concentrate. Forms are apparently not even fun to the caseworker I had briefly who missed some of the things I needed when helping me fill them in. But, it's done. There's always the threat of it all being taken away from me, but at the moment, I'm past caring.

Generally, I try to count the good things: I have a growing network of support, I've been out in the community and am trying to help (when I'm able), life is beautiful and people are immensely reachable if you smile at them and are prepared to listen to them. I know that, I really do. In the last few weeks I've danced, sang, chatted to 'vagrants', protested against racism, found my way to Church, laughed, and cried. I've been reminded of the person I used to be, way back when. I've seen my own frustrations with mental health blogged by someone much more eloquent than I (http://politicalparent.blogspot.com) and I know I'm not alone.

I know I'm not alone.

I know I'm not alone, even though my NHS therapist has pretty much told me they don't have the resources to help me. I know I'm not alone, even though it's going to be another month before my GP can tell me when I'm likely to be referred to the nurse that is the point of contact between her and the psychiatrist.

I know that when I wake from another nightmare, I can log in somewhere and there will be someone to talk to. I know that when I succumb to burning my skin again in frustration, someone will be there to give me a real or virtual hug. I know that my sister is only a phone call away, even though she has so much pain in her own life to deal with right now.

I know, I do know.. but if someone could tell the voice that echoes in my head 'it's all hopeless, it doesn't matter how much you fight - you're never going to win' - well, that would be nice.