Much as I have tried to think of the positives about going ‘home’ to France, depression has come knocking at the door. In fact, if I’m honest, it’s come barging through the door, grabbed a beer out of the the fridge and settled itself down on the couch with its feet up.
On Saturday we leave this stunning location in Spain to begin the journey back to France, back to normality. While I know that this specific place in Spain would be too hot and too busy for me during the summer, going back to a country that baffles me at best, that I despise at worse, really doesn’t feel like a good alternative.
Of course, there is no option, I don’t have any alternative. So I’ll go back to France and try and make the best of it, again. I’ve ordered some goodies with my birthday money that will be waiting for me when I return, I’ll get to see Mr Tinks again, but neither of those things are lifting my spirits.
I thought making a list of good things about returning to France would help me feel more positive about it, that it would fight off the depression, but it hasn’t. In fact the, very short, list has only really made me realise just how little I have to love about France and how desperately I want to leave it.
This in turn has fed my depression and the tell tale signs like not being able to wake up in the morning, lacking in joy for anything and not feeling up to even having a shower have appeared. I’ve spied them over the past 2 or 3 days, but today I woke up and I felt it, the black cloud, wrapping itself around me.
I have had such a wonderful time here in Spain, I have felt my anxieties lift, I have felt almost ‘normal’ and I love that feeling, and yet, as we prepare for our return I feel all those negative emotions rushing back in, all the things that make every day life so difficult for me.
I have no real reason for writing this, other than the need to get it out. I know that no one can help, that this is my battle, but I need you to understand that I’m fighting as hard as I can to not feel this way, I’ve tried to fight it before it even appeared, but nothing stops it. When this illness wants to take me down, take me down it will, and, while I wish I could say it wont defeat me, maybe one day it will, maybe one day it will swing its fatal blow because the longer I fight the more battle weary I become and the less I care about winning.
Depression is tiring, I guess any chronic illness is, it saps you of joy, of hope and of the belief that things get better. Logically I know that this will pass, emotionally though, I don’t believe it. In fact, right now I don’t even want to believe it, because I feel that I deserve this. I deserve it for being ungrateful, I live a life that some people dream of and I hate it. I deserve it for being a burden. I deserve it just because I’m an awful person who doesn’t deserve to be happy.
So there you go, that’s where I’m at right now. That’s the headspace I’m in. I’m not suicidal by the way, just really down, depressed and sad.