Readmission.

“I Am The Damned

I Am The Dead

I Am The Agony Inside

The Dying Head

This Is Injustice

Woe Unto Thee

I Pray This Punishment

Would Have Mercy On Me”

                                     “Who is it” – Michael Jackson 

                                  ——-

It was too good to be true. It didn’t last. The burst of energy I experienced a few weeks ago is gone. Certainly, I felt better for a while but not for long. The fog drifted down over my eyes again, the lethargy reappeared and the black ball is stirring within. 

When I left hospital I was full of enthusiasm. I got back to work (which took a significant effort to begin with), I was doing all the right things: taking medication, getting exercise, watching my sleep and spending time with my wife and family. We had some lovely days out together and all was good. I even signed up for guitar lessons. 

But over a period of weeks, everything began to slow down. Work became a drag, exercise reduced to nothing and the guitar lessons died a death. Conversation became laboured and I started to isolate more and more. I would spend long hours in bed on my days off work and entire afternoons lying on the couch listening to sombre music. Even the simplist of tasks became troublesome chores. 

More recently, my wife, obviously aware of the deterioration, encouraged me to contact my psychiatrist. But I refused. I didn’t want to admit defeat. I was foolish. Instead I languished until my mind finally turned to thoughts of ending the pain. That was the final straw. 

So now I’m back in hospital again. It’s only been a few months since my last visit and I feel like I’ve failed. But that idea will pass and slowly my reserves will be replenished and, with the right help, I will recharge body and soul. 

I am surrounded by people who are dealing with their own personal torment. Men and women from all walks of life trying to get better. Guidance, medication and the passage of time can allow them all to improve and live fulfilling lives. And so can I. 

It seems this bout of depression isn’t finished with me yet but I’m not finished either.