Small steps

*** WARNING: This post contains themes that may be distressing. ***

I am now on day 3 of what has been one of the worst rollercoaster rides of emotional horror that I have suffered from in a long time. As a result, this blog is going to be long. I promised myself that however I would not hold back and that means you get all the dirt. Depression is a cow and my brain is an ass!

Sunday night was when this started. I had gone to bed and all should have been well. My brain, however, decided that I apparently needed my insecurities blasted at me in the form of dreams that tore me to shreds mentally and emotionally. I woke up after what ended up being chapter one of the dreams and laid there trying my very best to fight the anguish and anxiety I felt from the dream. I used logic and rationality and I held my husband's hand and sobbed quietly. Eventually I drifted back to sleep and an unwanted second chapter came along. Again I wake up but by this time my heart was hammering to the point that no matter what I tried to tell myself I was already to emotionally distressed to settle easily. I seriously considered getting up at this point and jumping onto beyondblue to chat to someone. (Hindisght: I really should have done this) Sleep from exhaustion and distress then led to the final chapter of my horror dreams and in this one I commited suicide. I woke up and to me it was so real. I honestly felt the urge to ring people and apologise for putting them through such hell over something I hadn't done. I was extremely distraught but life wasn't going to stop just because I felt torn to shreds. I got up, got my daughter to school and went to work. I was convinced I could just push through it. The dream, the thoughts plagued me and I was struggling so very much with the desires that no matter what I was doing I was coming up with plan after plan on how to commit suicide.

Now I have no intention of ever committing suicide. The concept of hurting family and friends by doing so is enough to step me back from the edge every single time. Unfortunately my brain plays these kinds of thoughts like a broken record in the background for me to hear every damn day. Good days mean it doesn't seem so loud, bad days is like being next to the speaker at a concert. It is extremely draining. By the end of the day I was phsycially and emotionally exhausted. I had reached out to some dear friends off mine and was convinced I was doing everything right to make sure I was fighting off this particular wave of depression.

Monday night I went to bed after taking two diazapem (prescribed medicine! Please only use medication as recommended by your Dr). I managed to sleep til 1:30am blissfully. After this point though it seemed my restful sleep was to be no more. Insert another horrifying suicide dream. I was done. I simply couldn't from this point. My only thought was to get myself into the Dr. I got my daughter to school, got to the Dr's office and said I needed to see my Dr and they took one look at me, asked if I was okay and I crumbled. I cried then and there. I am extremely greatful to the nurses there who took me straight in and made it clear to the Dr I was going to be their first appointment. As much as I felt I had lost a battle I had taken a small but extremely vital step, I got help.

Since then I am back to seeing my Psychologist and have been in contact with my support network a lot. Work has been extrememly understanding (which actually has made me feel like I have let them down even more). I am on leave for the rest of the week and feeling very lost. I know I need to rest, I know I need to give myself time to heal. I really know that I can't just keep giving myself to others to help them and push my life aside. Bottling things up never works. I know I will do this again. It is a horrid way to force myself to give myself a break. I am stressed because I know friends are concerned for me. I feel like I'm phsycially shaking when I am not. I am emotionally exhausted and still a little paranoid to sleep. But I got help... Small steps...