In astronomy, a black hole is a region in space which has a gravitational field so intense that nothing can escape. It absorbs all the light in the area, and no light can ever escape.For the past few weeks I feel like I've been in my own personal black hole. It's sucked me in, and now I'm trapped and unable to escape. No sooner do I start to crawl out does it suck me back down deeper.
It's been a really rough few weeks all truth told. I've had a whole load of crap thrown at me, and have hit levels of lowness that I haven't experienced for many, many years, but also I've discovered that I have an incredible amount of support that I had no idea existed. Every cloud and all that....
But first.... I haven't updated this blog for almost 6 weeks now, because the last time I did I offended someone completely unintentionally, and I felt terrible for quite a while. I insinuated that the head of the school I'm on the PTA for didn't give two hoots about the fayre I've been organising, and looking back it gave the impression that she was unsupportive and disinterested, and I apologise to her for that. She has been as supportive as she can, but work demands limit her availability to get involved in additional stuff. On seeing first hand how much work it has taken to organise this fayre, I cannot fathom how someone can run an entire school! With only 2 weeks to go until the fayre though, I am finally feeling a bit more in control of it all. I hate that free-fall sensation where you're aware that time is racing past but you are unable to do anything about it or get anything under control. We have struggled with a lack of helpers, yet still we have somehow managed to get things very nicely under control and will hopefully put on a great day for everyone. I will be so glad once it's done and dusted though, I dread to think how many grey hairs will emerge as a result of the worry and stress!
Most people who know me know my mood has been at rock bottom for a few weeks recently. I'm not sure what triggered it; there have certainly been a lot of potential culprits. Two weeks ago my GP was concerned enough about me that he called the police out to my house to check that I was ok. I had input from the (useless) crisis team, a lot of support from my awesome GP, and Larry took an extended period of time off work to help me look after the children and allow me a much-needed break. What astounded me though was the amount of support I received from my RMR ladies. I never once felt judged or patronised, as a result I've gotten to know some of them much better which has been lovely, but mostly I've just felt cushioned and loved. And my god have I needed that. In being able to show weakness I have been given a whole lot of strength back, and I will never be able to thank them enough for that. Even in the 21st century, mental illness is such a taboo subject. Despite the rapidly increasing prevalence of mental health problems in society, a lot of people still treat is as a dirty subject, much like they would a sexually transmitted infection. It is the underclass of health problems, the thing people don't like to talk about for fear of being judged. Yet is that exact attitude that creates the judgement. I don't want to be ashamed that I have anorexia and depression, but I am. Whenever I have to talk about it I inwardly wince. So often I've thought that it would be easier having cancer, because that's just as much of a killer as, say, anorexia, but its far more socially acceptable. In that your body has been invaded so you are blameless. But in mental illness when it's your thoughts that are to blame, well that's all your fault isn't it?
The biggest effect of my depression being so bad of late is the fact that, for the first time ever, it has affected my ability to run. All the way through VLM training and even before that, I could leave all the crap (including the black dog) at the door and would feel freedom from the turmoil for the duration of my run and for a while afterwards. Recently I drag all the crap out with me; it is just impossible to extricate myself from it and shake the black dog free to be able to run. So many of my runs have resulted in me sat on a bench somewhere sobbing my eyes out because I feel too mentally paralysed to run. And when I can't run, I have no release, no escape. My mojo has been on holiday. I could quite possibly have thrown in the towel with my running; I've told TT countless times I'm going to pull out of all the races I have booked for autumn because I'm completely useless. If it wasn't for my little running club at school I would be at risk of giving up entirely. My self esteem is rock bottom and some days I'm not certain I actually ran VLM at all. But I am stubborn, and I am sticking to my training plan and working hard, only there is currently very little in the tank as my food intake has taken a major nose dive due to recent events. I'm always in such a precarious balance of food intake and mood. Eat too much and it sets off the ED siren which flares my depression. Eat too little and the ED is satisfied and the depression eases, but I can't run as well which exacerbates the depression. I feel like I'm in a no-win situation, and the loudest voice is always the ED one so that's the one that trumps the lot. And while I'm happy that the weight is dropping off again, I'm getting very dizzy again and light-headed when I'm training, and then I think am I really back here again? Back to the end of November when TT would look at me with concern rather than pride, eyes darting as he tries to figure out if I'm about to face plant on the floor or just stagger and hold on to something. I don't want that, but I want the release from depression that starving offers. And then I think of how every day is a psychological struggle for me, and - perhaps petulantly - think "it's not fair". I want to be "normal". I want to feel happy, I want to be able to eat something extra without crucifying myself afterwards, I want to be free from the anguish. But, at 35, it feels like I will never be free, which turns me full circle back to where I was 2 weeks ago when my GP called the police.So for now I'm dragging myself through the days, trying to do my best at everything I do. I'm working my hardest at making a success of the school summer fayre and running club, I'm trying to be the best mum to my children as I can despite the emotional blunting I have at present, and I'm searching hard for that passion for running that is buried deep within me, and perhaps will be the thing to lift me out of this seemingly endless black hole. But until that happens I will grasp the love and support on offer, and hope that one day it will be enough to start me moving up and out.
