Depression

Sometimes life is good. Everything seems to be going well: you’re in a great relationship, living comfortably in a really nice house in a fabulous area, you’re secure financially and lovingly supported in your pursuance of ‘a life less stressful’ (i.e. still don’t need to go back to work), you get to go into the mountains to climb, walk or scramble whenever you want to, and you’ve even just managed to bake the most fantastic batch of scones you’ve ever laid eyes on (yes, they really are that good!). But somehow, something still isn’t right.

I don’t know what it is, whether the crack on the head I received in the Alps has caused a horrendous chemical imbalance in my brain that’s causing me to feel this way, or whether I was never destined to break free from the suffocating chains of the depression of years gone by, but things don’t feel good right now.

Sometimes life is good, sometimes bad. When life is bad you tend to find a way to fight through the bad feelings, the lows, the agonies and the depressive moments, your mind copes because it has a reason to – you understand why you feel unhappy and this provides a kind of solace and comfort, or at least that’s how it’s been for me in the past. Right now though life is good, yet I have been suffering those horrible, terrible fraught feelings of desolation and panic I thought I’d left behind in my recovery. Why has it all come back? Why am I finding myself breaking into random sobs in the car? Why do I look at my scars and wonder what it would feel like to gain another? What is this feeling of emptiness and hollow loneliness when I’m not alone? I really don’t know. I just hope it gets better again soon.