The past week or so, I have been feeling great. Let me expand:
- I feel fit
- I can wake up at 6 am, look forward to the day and not usually have to nap. I sleep well without need for drugs.
- I can feel the body-armour evolving underneath the curves
- I do not feel fat
- I can concentrate (even if it is on doing trifly stuff like facebooking
- I am full of jokes (admittedly, most of them bad, but people get a laugh)
- I can string a sentence together. In fact, I can string many sentences together – many of them technically difficult (having wrote a grant and ethics submission)
- I am excited and hopeful for the future.
- Things shit me but it does not affect my mood terribly much.
I was reading through my blogs from January (not that long ago). For contrast:
- I could not get out of bed until 8am, earliest, and even that was a struggle. I could only get to sleep with drugs
- No jokes. Struggle to get out sentences. Thoughts slow
- I felt fat and slow and sluggish.
- I was frightened of the future and did not want to think of it.
- Things would send me into a complete torpor.
What I get from this:
- depression is really, really debilitating.
- The biological symptoms are real – the slowness, the tiredness, the anxiety, the general fug.
- The drugs work
- So does the therapy
- So does taking life by both horns. But I could only do that once I had some traction from the drugs.
- I have improved remarkably in a relatively short space of time.
- Mental health is just really fucking important and I appreciate mine now, as always.
Happy weekend, groupies!