Yesterday Ashley Peterson, the mental health blogger I follow and who used to comment a lot on my posts during the beginning of my ‘blogging career’ posted that she may be going to the hospital. She didn’t elaborate on this. It is my understanding, obviously, it is due to her depression getting really bad and I feel so overwhelmed by this idea: why someone who is fairly successful and doesn’t have any major problems suddenly develops depression and can’t get out of it? Ashley is an ex mental health nurse so she knows about all the treatments that are available and she should have an idea of what is likely to help.
And yet, it doesn’t work for her.
At least with my dad I found an explanation: undiagnosed autism and work as a welder so loads of exposure to flashing lights. I mean, I only go this understanding when I was 37. Before it was always: why, why, why?
I wish I was able to help Ashley. I almost want to go there and take care of her. Do I need visa to Canada? I could visit her every day for 10 minutes to bring her cakes.
But in all honesty, I’m worried a little bit that we may not get on easily. It seems to me that I don’t fit very well into the world of people who live with mental illness. I wonder whether that is because I recovered? It’s a tricky question I suppose. I guess, if John broke up with me when I was going through psychosis, the recovery would be much more difficult. Or, if I went to Prague instead of going home and was arrested there because of erratic behaviour, it would probably be impossible at all. So I guess I was lucky. But very often I don’t feel like it at all.
My dental appointment is in two hours and ideally I’d like to cancel it. I will need to go out to get some milk but what I want the most now is to be able to stay in bed forever. But who is going to take care of me if that happens? Mum is not here any more and never will be. It’s just me, alone forever.