You know the saying ‘you are only ever two paydays away from bankruptcy’? Well, with depression, I almost feel like it is the same. I was 18 years old when depression first wrapped it’s strong, heavy arms around me. Triggered by my Dad’s suicide and everything that comes with that. The thoughts, the feelings, stricken with grief. But also coming to the realisation that he didn’t die, his own thoughts killed him.
It has taken me a long time to get to the point where I am today. Constant self-reassurance, the faith in myself to carry on, even when I wanted to give in. Part of carrying on is having things to work towards, a goal, something to focus on. I have set myself many a long the years. My final goal was buying a house. The symbol of recovery, the sign I have found my true happiness again.
I am sure if follow me on social media, you will know that I have a found a house. I haven’t really stopped talking about it. But that isn’t really what this post is about. The house is currently hanging in the balance of strict mortgage lenders. I suppose whatever will be will be. But the truth of the matter is, if it all falls through, I will be loosing more than the house I have my heart set on. My happiness is hanging in the balance here too.
A bit like a tightrope, each and every day I get up, I go to work, and I carry out my weekly routine. One step off the plan, and off the tightrope I fall. I have got better about it over the years. Better at regaining balance when something doesn’t quite go to plan. But, this is a very big plan, I am scared that if I fall off at this point, getting back on is going to be oh so much harder. Will depression regrip me, tighter this time, making it harder to set myself free?
But that is the worst thing about recovery, whilst you appreciate the little things more, the joy in the blue sky and cold air in the mornings. Or that you can finally appreciate the sound of birds singing. Always, at the back of your mind is the fear that depression will come back.