15 22 Aug 2007. 1700 Hrs. Depression & Nightmares.
Right now I am experiencing one of those very scary moments we depressives have from time to time.
During the last Forty Eight Hours I have made two postings here, spent a wonderful “social” evening with my son, and, sorted out some potential Social Work Articles, overcome my fear of rejection, and submitted them to a magazine. I have also identified and printed some relevant wildlife photographs and, again overcome the rejection fear, and submitted these to a competition.
Why the scare? Because this activity is both a reminder of just how inactive I have been for weeks, and a possible indicator that I am about to zoom off in the opposite direction.
As usual there are also huge gaps in my memory of my “time away” so I am scanning what memory is there to try to discover whether I have done, or not done, anything during the period to cause upset or harm to others, or to myself. My discoveries so far are focused on too much money spent on CD’s and Cigarettes, not too bad because I can balance these by living on beans on toast for a while. (Pollyanna moment: This will also help my needed weight loss, and through that, my back pain).
It is because I am still on the Sad side of OK that I remain fearful. During the next twenty four hours I might slip back to that frightening place, or I might suddenly be filled with optimism and enthusiasm, both potentially fraught with danger so I have to hope the coin will land on the side marked OK.
I guessed change was on the way last night following a night of vivid dreams and nightmares, all completely different but all connected in some way. All containing people and places from my past, my present, and, who knows, my future?
On nights such as these I am woken, in either euphoria or fear, every couple of hours. These awakenings can be as terrifying as the dream itself but last night, (a possible indicator that I am on the up), I was able to hang on to reality and make a cup of tea and smoke a cigarette between each one to re-ground myself.
My nightmares are particularly vivid and very terrifying and if they become persistent over a few days are one of my few reliable indicators that I am going “down”. At these times the “nightmare” becomes a “day mare” on waking and I can continue to be haunted by the sights and sounds of the “mare” in a hallucinatory way right through to the point it picks up again as I eventually regain sleep the following night.
Scary enough at the best (or should that be worse) of times but particularly difficult during schooldays and my working life when I had to learn to concentrate very hard on the reality of the day and push aside the visions and sounds of the fantasy being played out in my head.
All depressive suffer some symptoms they do not tell the medics for years, (sometimes never) for fear this is the thing that will finally prove they are mad and lead to them being locked up. For that reason these “day mares” remained one of my “secrets” until very recently, brought into the open because with age I no longer care if people think I am mad, I no longer care myself if I am mad as that aspect of me is responsible for the best parts of me as well as the worse.
I wrote a poem about coming to terms with Mental Illness while I was attending the day hospital. It is based on my own experiences and on some of those of my colleagues. I wont post it here because it might be overlooked, I will post it next.
Luv Bri
Right now I am experiencing one of those very scary moments we depressives have from time to time.
During the last Forty Eight Hours I have made two postings here, spent a wonderful “social” evening with my son, and, sorted out some potential Social Work Articles, overcome my fear of rejection, and submitted them to a magazine. I have also identified and printed some relevant wildlife photographs and, again overcome the rejection fear, and submitted these to a competition.
Why the scare? Because this activity is both a reminder of just how inactive I have been for weeks, and a possible indicator that I am about to zoom off in the opposite direction.
As usual there are also huge gaps in my memory of my “time away” so I am scanning what memory is there to try to discover whether I have done, or not done, anything during the period to cause upset or harm to others, or to myself. My discoveries so far are focused on too much money spent on CD’s and Cigarettes, not too bad because I can balance these by living on beans on toast for a while. (Pollyanna moment: This will also help my needed weight loss, and through that, my back pain).
It is because I am still on the Sad side of OK that I remain fearful. During the next twenty four hours I might slip back to that frightening place, or I might suddenly be filled with optimism and enthusiasm, both potentially fraught with danger so I have to hope the coin will land on the side marked OK.
I guessed change was on the way last night following a night of vivid dreams and nightmares, all completely different but all connected in some way. All containing people and places from my past, my present, and, who knows, my future?
On nights such as these I am woken, in either euphoria or fear, every couple of hours. These awakenings can be as terrifying as the dream itself but last night, (a possible indicator that I am on the up), I was able to hang on to reality and make a cup of tea and smoke a cigarette between each one to re-ground myself.
My nightmares are particularly vivid and very terrifying and if they become persistent over a few days are one of my few reliable indicators that I am going “down”. At these times the “nightmare” becomes a “day mare” on waking and I can continue to be haunted by the sights and sounds of the “mare” in a hallucinatory way right through to the point it picks up again as I eventually regain sleep the following night.
Scary enough at the best (or should that be worse) of times but particularly difficult during schooldays and my working life when I had to learn to concentrate very hard on the reality of the day and push aside the visions and sounds of the fantasy being played out in my head.
All depressive suffer some symptoms they do not tell the medics for years, (sometimes never) for fear this is the thing that will finally prove they are mad and lead to them being locked up. For that reason these “day mares” remained one of my “secrets” until very recently, brought into the open because with age I no longer care if people think I am mad, I no longer care myself if I am mad as that aspect of me is responsible for the best parts of me as well as the worse.
I wrote a poem about coming to terms with Mental Illness while I was attending the day hospital. It is based on my own experiences and on some of those of my colleagues. I wont post it here because it might be overlooked, I will post it next.
Luv Bri
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