A little while ago I blogged about cyber bullying and depression. One of the things that makes the battle against depression hard is the loss of the ability to identify sadness. When you have a ‘down’ day there is a tendency to say to yourself, ‘the medication is not working so well today and I’m feeling a bit depressed.’

Sometimes, that’s not the case at all. Sometimes, you’re feeling sad and that’s a common emotion. If I miss my Mum and feel sad, is that my depression? No, I miss my Mum and I feel sad. If I feel frustrated and impatient because everything I want to get on and do is being held up other people, is it my depression that’s making me sad? No, that’s life and sometimes (forgive my language) LIFE SUCKS.

There is so much I could be doing, I’m due to go away for three months in 32 days, and I can’t do any of it because I’m waiting for other people. I know it will all work out and eventually I’ll be as busy as a bee, but today it feels like I’m at the bottom of a very deep hole. So, I give myself permission to feel sad. To wish I could pour my heart out to my Mummy and get a cuddle. To play ‘sad songs’ and cry as I sing along. To pray for patience, RIGHT NOW.

Actually ‘Patience’ reminds me of an anecdote. When I was in my 20s I owned a bright yellow scooter. I wanted to buy a motorbike but my Dad was adamant I could only have a scooter. I called her Patience because it was a quality I really needed to acquire at the time (and I did it so well). I had a helmet and I looked a bit like a lollipop on wheels, chugging along very slowly. One day I went down to the local dairy and parked on the pavement outside. As I went inside I realised I’d left my purse on the table in my flat. I was extremely annoyed with myself, climbed back on and instead of checking to make sure I was in reverse, I fired up the throttle…and went straight through the plate-glass window of the dairy. Remarkably both Patience and I were unscathed, the window was not so lucky. Soon after that I succumbed to parental pressure and swapped Patience for a car. The quality, clearly, remained un-acquired.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Tui Allen
    Mar 11, 2014 @ 09:48:54

    This started off sad and wound up making me laugh Julie. It reminded me of my uncle who (many years ago) went to buy hamburgers at a small country takeaway bar. He marched purposefully into the shop via a large plate-glass window he hadn’t noticed. He walked up the counter and as the glass tinkled to the floor behind him he said, “Two hamburgers without onions please.”
    I mean what else COULD you say!


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