It’s like butterflies and fire: giving depression a name

08:30 it’s grim outside, looks like rain. It’s nearly the end of the week but still feels like forever to go. After sleeping on my realisation for the last two nights I am starting to think I should ask for help. I’ve booked a doctors appointment for later today.

So I finally picked up the courage to visit the doctors and speak to him about how I am feeling. He was lovely and we had a good old chat about everything. I was prescribed some anti-depressants after a lengthy chat about therapies etc. I was told that doctors don’t offer these as often as they once did so if you are offered at least give it a try. I was hesitant but I needed to sort this fuzz out in my head and get better. I am no good to myself or others if I’m not myself. I may have to back track my IVF journey to next year but I’d rather be back to myself than kid myself into going through all this in my current mental state.

The hardest part of the whole day was sitting down with my husband and telling him. Gosh I was so nervous I didn’t have a clue where to start. This is a man I’ve been with for over a decade he’s seen me on the toilet why does the thought of talking to him freak me out? Well I sat him down and explained that I hadn’t been entirely truthful with him and that I had been hiding the fact I cry a lot behind his back, that I don’t sleep etc. He then blurted out that he was relieved because he thought I was having an affair. Of all the things he could have thought about he thought I was with another man. I told him he was an idiot for thinking that but no that I am very much not having an affair with anyone.  The only males in my life are him, the dog and cat.

I sat and pondered all night about taking my first antidepressant. I must have held the packet in my hand for a good hour. Finally, I just opened the box and took one with some water. Only time will tell now whether I’m making the right decision. That is why I have chosen to write this blog. I wanted to share with you all my path to getting better.

Depression is not something we should be ashamed of. Mental health is still a stigma for most but there are so many of us suffering in silence. Lets pull down these barriers and make people realise they are not alone. The first stage to recovery is realising that there is something wrong. Admit it to yourself and ask for help. It is far braver to ask for help than sit and tackle it on your own.

When you admit to yourself that you are suffering from a form of depression. Give it a name, I called mine butterflies and fire. Churchill famously called his his black dog.  

Once it has a name you give it an identity, it is something you can now relate to.  Why did I choose butterflies and fire; well when I’m happy its like I am floating like butterflies drifting in the gentle breeze but when I’m down it’s like my mind is ablaze with a fire of ill-thought. 

Now the remaining part of my journey to recovery is reducing the demon’s size. You can only do this in stages, try to combat it all in one go and it will be unsustainable. You can’t run from it or hide away either, doing either just makes your demons bigger and harder to deal with. Over the coming days, weeks months and years I will blog about my progress and hopefully reach out to some of you and hopefully make friends along the way.

I really hope you enjoy reading my blogs and join the family to break the stigmas of taboo subjects like mental health.

Katherine xo

 

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