So the months since my last contact have been heavy both physically and emotionally. I have had the worst depressive episode in my life and needed new psychiatric input. Depression means all things to all people. It is not a one size fits all, “Oh I eat chocolate when I’m depressed” because if that was the case then we would all be off down the shop for a Kit Kat>. Back to work the next day colleagues inquiring how we were after our depression telling us about theirs last week when their husband walked out and how the Mars bar really works for them.
No food cures depression. Neither does alcohol or drugs (yes even prescription ones). But the legal ones do help you to cope better and therefore have less depressive episodes. I have been taking Paroxitine for at least 14 years now and they have not helped at all. The only effect I get is when I have not had them for 4 days then I am homicidal yes Homicidal Not Suicidal. I cannot control this so it’s a bloody good thing I am morbidly obese and have osteoporosis or I would be England’s most notorious killer, “you know that Caroline Carney well I read in the paper she killed 4 people and chopped them up in her wet room then put them in bin bags which her carers put in her wheelie bin.
The only thing that stops me is I am too exhausted by my other physical disabilities to bother. I am my own worst enemy I sabotage my life better than any enemy has ever done or ever could and then I do not ask for help until it is so bad I am just under the radar for sectioning under the mental health act. I have been this way most of my adult life but very few people know about it. People see me as lively say what you think person who gets things done. This is true I am that person but I am also the stay inside don’t tell anyone the dark is pouring in on you person.
I am the eat lots of food make yourself as unattractive as you can so a relationship with anyone is less likely because you cannot bare another broken heart when you fuck it up trying to be everything to the poor human who just’s wants you to be the you they met in the pub who was funny and kind and warm to be around. Instead you turn into the “Got to make this perfect” you who is controlling and reluctant to receive anything good from others. Of course there is a reason for all this and I know what it is but I don’t feel like talking about it now that’s for another day when I am stronger and less down on myself. No, today I am too vulnerable for that.
So finally I get to the title of this bunch of emotions. As I have managed to fuck things up over and over again in the same way I am now considered to be the proud owner of a shiny new Personality Disorder. “Which one” you shout wishing to put me in a category and tell yourself you always knew there was something wrong which is bullshit as you really had no idea. Some people will be nodding their heads and saying to others ” Ah a personality disorder” they are the ones who do not have a personality let alone one interesting enough to be a disordered one.
So I journey now into the world as if I have been given a new tattoo only this one is inside me and I may refer to it or not in much the same way as I do the one on my leg I got for my 40th birthday only this new one is not visible and is less likely to have people laugh when I tell them about it!