“Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.”
― C.S. Lewis
― C.S. Lewis
I scarcely shed tears
Maybe thrice a year
Instead of daily or weekly or at least monthly (don’t we all girls?)
My emotions are dulled
Not gone, far from gone
I remember times, months of raw emotion
Tonnes of tears
Grief and sadness
But also a deep longing and desperate need for my Saviour
A closeness and sweet reliance
I can’t be wife and mummy like that
But I miss the realness
The longing for heaven
And the unshakable feeling that this isn’t my real home
My mind is altered now
I can see past myself and be friend and care giver
I can make it past the ups and the downs
I can think ahead
And have hope for this life
Still looking forward to the next
Where I’ll be free
Not to cry
But to love more deeply
and feel more freely
This morning I was forced to leave my comfy little nest of tea and chocolate and crochet to go to the docs for a new script. Every five repeats or five months I run out and leave it to the last possible minute to go in for another one.
He asked me if it was still going well and checked my BP incase the meds were causing high blood pressure. Mine was perfect as it usually runs low anyway.
I said all was well thankyou and made off with my key to five more months of happy pills. Sane pills.
I don't even question them anymore. For now, they are an essential part of getting on with life.
But oh how I've fought against them in the past.
I finally acknowledged my need for anti-depressants after a couple of years of being chronically ill with ME/CFS a good decade ago. The grieving for the loss of my active happy P.E teacher life had gone on too long and I wasn’t coping with my new life spent largely lying down or desperately trying to regain strength and vitality only to crash back down 100 times worse than before.
My meds have the added bonus of increasing adrenaline and helping alleviate Orthostatic Intolerance (blood pooling below the heart so that you feel faint and unable to stand or sit for long) associated with my illness.
But after two very sick and medication-free pregnancies, there is no doubt that I need them to level out my brain’s chemistry.
I’ve tried and hoped not to need them, succumbing to the stigma that poor mental health is a weakness in need of a better attitude or greater faith. I’ve been ashamed of needing them and tried self-medicating (or self-UN-medicating!)
But now I’m simply grateful for them.
And I hope I help others who need them feel a little less crazy.
Because we are all abnormal is some way, and having a broken down pathway in your brain is the same as having a broken down leg or appendix or heart.