On Climbing Out Of The Black Dog Hole

*big stretch*

First post in a while this. Might take me some time to get back into it. That I am being distracted by Turkish and Bricktop being ridiculously cute isn't helping but I'll live with that.

So why away so long and what to write about now I am able to put fingers to keyboard?

How about why I was away.

Been having a bit of a bad time lately. Been very low. Very depressed. Nearly constantly triggered. It hasn't been fun. I went to the docs to ask for a week of and she gave me a month. I have been a big ball of unreleased rage and as usual was turning it in on myself. Not healthy but the only way I could let the rage go without lashing out at anyone.

I have a real temper you see. It is nasty and vindictive and though not physically violent, I will cut you down to a weeping, blubbering mess with my words. I'm good at it. And when I am in the midst of it, I enjoy it. And I hate it. So I keep it all inside as I wouldn't be able to deal with hurting anyone. I would hate myself for it and the whole nasty, self destructive cycle would begin again. So, because I can no longer go to the beach and scream at the sea I internalise it.

So what had me so bad? My life is good. I have The Lovely and the amazing Doodlebug and I love my work and I am studying a subject I am passionate about. I have brilliant friends and apart from a bit of low blood pressure I am in good physical health.

Weird how your brain doesn't think like that though. Funny how it will find the smallest thing to latch onto to make you freak out and convince yourself that you are a waste of a perfectly good existence.

For me there were a few things.

A random phrase.

I see so much stuff tagged with 'trigger warning' these days. I totally understand and appreciate the effort people go to hoping I won't be triggered but they can kind of miss the point. I am, as I have previously mentioned, a survivor of some pretty horrific abuse. Yet I can read about abuse and it won't trigger me. Even if it is the same kind of abuse I suffered. I can distance myself from it and it won't affect me.

Yet. Put something like 'there will be blood up the walls' on twitter and I find myself right back at age 14 at my dad's house in Trinidad cowering in fear as he beats up his girlfriend.

A song.

Lyrics that have been fine can send me into a spiral at no notice at all. Let You Go by Chase and Status had me frozen in my bed in tears absolutely CONVINCED that if I got out of it the Big Ex was going to get me. Once I came out of it with the help of the wife and processed it, I could listen to the song again with no ill effects. Weird how that happens, but I have a feeling I know why it did.

Big Ex has moved on and got a new girlfriend. Really happy for him. Seriously, I wish him all the luck and love in the world, but it seems he is building Deeva 2.0. It's fucking creepy how similar she is to me. But I'm over it now and saving up for a divorce.

A blog.

My wonderful Doodlebug blogged about their abuse. It was the first I had heard of most of it and it floored me. I totally support their right to do it and I am glad they did, but it left me a ball of unremitting rage that had nowhere to go.

My first instinct was to grab a baseball bat and start swinging. These FUCKERS PUT THEIR HANDS ON MY BABY!!! But that would have done no one any good and Doodlebug would have been left without their prime support while their mother was in prison.

Autumn.

I hate winter. Loathe it. Winter is a thing to be survived. Winter is what I emerge from. Loathe it. It is dark and cold and vitamin D deficient. I ache for the sun on my skin and a warm breeze. Winter gives me chapped lips and wet feet and cold everything. I cannot impress upon you enough how much I loathe it.

The only thing that is worse is autumn. Autumn is the transition time from the joy of summer to the loathing of winter. I have to put the flip flops away. I wake up in the dark. I get home from work in the dark. Everything is dark, including me. So this is never a good time of year. I put the fairy lights on in my bedroom and hope for the best.

I have always survived autumn and winter, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.

So I've been trying to get myself up. To make sure I don't press the self destruct button and wreck everything again. To actually talk about how I'm feeling. The anxiety. The depression. The suicidal ideation.

And it has worked to a certain extent, but there are other things that have helped.

The Lovely. He has been patient and kind and loving and actually made me believe that I deserve
him to be all of those things. It was him reaching out to hold my hand while he slept that kept me on this mortal coil this time and I love him to pieces just for being him.

Doodlebug. They are an inspiration to me. Their strength, their compassion and their laughter.

Turkish and Bricktop. Never underestimate the power of a small, fluffy animal to make you smile.

Knitting. Yes really. Keeps my hands busy, my mind free and the blanket we are making together is growing as much as the love we are knitting into it.

Talking.

I've been talking about my mental health problems on twitter and facebook and have been astounded by the love, support and understanding I have had back.

And the encouragement when things have seemed at their darkest.

I have love. I receive love. I love.

At the end of the day it is what will keep me going.

I started the climb out of the hole that is a depressive episode, but when I looked up there were so many hands waiting to help me I couldn't help but jump up.

So that is where I have been and why.

I'm back now. Slowly getting my mojo back.

Hopefully I will be fully back on form soon and this blog will be it's usual ranty shouty place.

Until then, thank you all, every single one of you for every kind word and cyber hug. Especially those who knew I was ill before I did.

Love you all.

Deeva xxx

ANNOYINGLY BLOGGER IS NOT LETTING ME COMMENT ON MY OWN BLOG. THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO COMMENTS.

On Living With A Self Harmer

Massive trigger warnings for self harm apply.

Don't really know where to start with this post. Gonna be a whole heap of personal as usual and for once I sought permission to write it.

Permission? I hear you ask... Who on earth from?

@spaceviolin is who.

She self harms. And I am her mum.

She writes her own blog on her mental health issues and today she wrote this amazing post on self harm. In fact, her whole blog is amazing. You should check it out.

But I procrastinate... as I have been for a very long time. The posts I write about myself are somehow easier, I can distance myself from the things I describe because they happened a long time ago. I have distance and perspective on them. This is happening NOW so if this post becomes muddled, I apologise in advance.

So yeah, my daughter self harms.

It's hard for me when she does it for many reasons. One, I am her mum and I don't want to see my baby in pain. Either the pain of the cutting or the psychological pain that makes her do it. I understand why she does it logically and intellectually but seeing it makes me want to wrap her in cotton wool. Hide her away from the world and protect her so she never has to feel any pain again. And I can't. I can't take that control away from her as it would lead to even more problems. And I wouldn't want to as that would be a life half lived. And what would be the point?

I believe in personal bodily autonomy, so intellectually it shouldn't bother me that she self harms. But it does. I don't own her, I don't believe that just because I gave birth to her that I have any entitlement over her body at all, but she is my darling baby girl.

I don't try to stop her doing it. If I find what she has been cutting with I remove it but she will inevitably find something else to do it with. I can't keep her away from everything sharp in the world. Last time I tried she ended up punching herself. And if she couldn't do that she would find another way.

It's hard you know, leaving sharp things around so she doesn't feel like I'm babying her, or not trusting her, all the while hoping against hope that she'll stop.

I try to be supportive. I try not to guilt her when she does as I know that makes it worse. I try to smile so she can't see a little bit more of my heart break when I see fresh cuts. I'm grateful that she is honest about it now in a way that she wasn't at first but I am scared that by normalising it she'll never get better. I tell myself that I'm doing all I can and by giving her a safe space to talk about it and taking her to her therapy sessions so that when she knows how to feel anger, knows how to feel that it will calm down and eventually stop.

I understand that this is not a suicide attempt, a way to manipulate, a cry for attention. I understand that when she does it that it gives her relief from her pain, gives her control and is a pressure valve.

I am not angry with her.

I love her.

Sometimes it's just, you know, hard.