Story corner

This is short story I wrote, it's the first time I've ever "published" my writing, I'd love to know what you think.

At last, everyone’s gone.  I’m on my own.  I have to go upstairs and get out of this uncomfortable suit.  I’ve always hated wearing this kind of thing.  It’s too hot, too scratchy and I hate wearing black.  Having said that I wear black a lot, it’s smart and appropriate, just what I’m meat to be.  

It’s been a long day finally, I have a few minutes to myself sitting in my armchair.   The chair dominates the bedroom, it doesn’t match anything else here, but I love it.   It’s the one thing I own that really reflects me, as it’s a little bit too big, a little bit scruffy and not smart enough for its surroundings.

Everyone’s been lovely today, I’ve got great friends who would do anything for me.  I feel so ungrateful for just wanting to be on my own.  I could just stay within these four walls here on my chair and never see any of them again.  Never swap recipes; compare notes on that fabulous place in Tuscany; gossip about the cheeky wink from the new tennis coach at the club.  I know their lives are as imperfect as mine, but you must never let it show.  Like I said they would do anything for you, Sarah lends her husband to Rebecca for after dinner entertainment.   Rebecca reciprocates with a steady supply for class A drugs.  Harry will give anyone the number of his stockbroker, gardener or favourite hooker in Mayfair.   David loves, I mean loved his friends.  He always said he like living here because the neighbours were our sort of people.  

“David, beloved husband, friend and neighbour,”  I’m sure that’s what they said in the church today.  They said so many nice things about him.  Thinking about David makes me cry.  Crying is good, it’s want I’m meant to be doing, it’s a proper emotion.   Finally the emotions I’m supposed to feeling are coming through.  Feeling relief, feeling safe wasn’t right, I wasn’t meant to feel like that.   David would be please I’m being appropriate again.  He didn’t like it when I broke the rules of suburbia.  I never quite knew what the rules were meant to be, but somehow everyone else did.  To start with David loved the fact I wasn’t an average suburban housewife, as he always put it.  But over time he started telling me I should be more like Rebecca and Sarah, they knew how to behave.   He seemed to think that I was wrong deliberately and just wanted to annoy him and how him up.  I tried to be proper, I really tried to right in and do as he wanted, but it seemed as if the rules kept changing.   My skirts became longer, my shoes became lower and more sensible, lower heels meant I was less likely to fall over if I had annoyed David.   The cardigans meant I could cover up the bruises and be appropriate.  The bruises on my back always seemed to take longer to clear. Sometimes my make up wasn’t right, but it’s hard to put on mascara with a broken wrist.   He used to tell me he didn’t mean it.  He wouldn’t do it if I hadn’t done something wrong.  If I had got things right in the first place, then he wouldn’t get angry.  His anger, at last I’m free of his anger.   The feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach is slowly disappearing.  I’ll never forget the look in his eye when he lost control, the moment he changed from David, the upstanding pillar of the community to David, judge, jury and frequently executioner. 

But now I’m free, I can be wrong whenever I want, or whenever it inadvertently takes place.   I can feel a difference inside, I wore my red shirt yesterday. I didn’t go out, no-one saw me.  But I knew I wore it and nothing bad happened.  This house is now my sanctuary, not my prison; it is free of anger.  I always knew the anger would kill one of us, but I’d always assumed it was going to be me.   This is the irony of my story, the final moment of justice.   Ten days ago, he was angry, I’m not quite sure why, this time it wasn’t my fault, it was something to do with his work.  He couldn’t cope with getting angry at work, as he couldn’t work out how to deal with it.  He couldn’t deal with it like he did at home.  Like my grandma always said if you get too angry your head will explode.    Turns out she was a wise old woman, well it wasn’t really his head, but something to do with a blood clot in his brain, I don’t think his blood pressure helped.

So here I am, sat on my chair.  My appropriate black suit is on the floor, the bruises on my arm, on my stomach, on my legs are fading.  I think I’m going to wear my jeans this evening, I’m going to relax and be comfortable in my own home. 

What was it they said about David today, he was a good man, loved by his wife, family and friends.  He will be missed by those who knew him.   There is no reason to change to official version of history.  Mr David Adams may be dead, but Mrs David Adams has been reborn.

Moving forward

Well I've made some big decision, and life is moving forward.  As I've talking abut previously life was stressful and I had to do something about it.  I quit my job.  This is scary, it was very well paid, I was good at it, and I had a lot of friends there.  But it was a tough job, and involved a long commute, something had to give, and that coudln't be my health any longer.  I was tired of spending evenings crying, of having to pull myself together just before I walked into a meeting.  I want to be me again, I want to have a laugh and a giggle; I want to be a little bit scary in meetings, without literally shaking under the desk; I want to get that bounce in my step back.  I can't do that while exhausted and I can't do that when I have no self confidence.

I do have a new job, so I'm not opting out of the world completely, but the plan is it will be less demanding.  It should be a shorter commute, and give me some of my life back.  But given my lack of confidence, it is very, very scary.  I don't know anyone in the new place, I don't have any friends there.  I don't know who is nice and who is nasty, who to trust and who to avoid.  I don't quite know what the job involves or if I can do it.   But I have to make this leap if I'm going to get me back, here goes..........................................

What does success look like?

I deal with a lot of projects at work, as well as running them, I have to challenge those that other people are running.  One of my key questions is always "what does success look like? how will you know when you have achieved what you set out to do?"

So being logical, I'm asking myself how I will know when I'm feeling better, and more importantly what am I going to do to enjoy it.    During my visits to my GP I've had to answer a depression questionnaire in order to diagnose the severity of my depression, if anyone reading this thinks it could help them, here is a link to it on NHS direct.     http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/depression/Pages/Introduction.aspx  The first time I did the questionnaire with the GP I was diagnosed as severely depressed.

So now I'm trying to write a questionnaire for what good looks like, based.  Like the depression questionnaire it is based on how you have been feeling in the last two weeks, and the answers should selected from:
 - no, not at all
 - on some days
 - on more than half the days
 - nearly every day.

I should highlight at this point, this is entirely made up by me.   It has no basis in science, but I find it useful.

1) have you laughed several times a day?

2) have you found yourself feeling content, satisfied or happy?

3) Do you feel well rested and not drained of energy

4) are you able to sleep through the night and wake up in the morning?

5)  do you look forward to what the day to come might bring?

6) do you enjoy spending time with friends and family?

7)  Do you get enjoyment out of watching a film, reading a book or other hobbies you used to enjoy?

8) Can you hold and enjoy a normal conversation?

9) Are you able to treat yourself and enjoy it?

I'm not sure what score denotes success, I'm still working on the MI.  But it helps, if I can answer positively to some of these then I'm heading in the right direction.

Happiness at the bottom of a biscuit tin

Well the exercise programme and diet I talked about before is not going well.   I just don't seem to be able to stop eating.  I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm always hungry and all I'm eating is biscuits, crisps, chocolate, toast, cake................

I've not been exercising, I did it for a few days, then the depression came back.  Other than dancing I've not been able to get off the sofa and jog,cycle or anything else.  I don't think I can blame this on the depression, I'm not actually feeling too bad, work is going well, family is good.  I feel quite good about my mental self, it's my physical self I don't like.   It's like sabotage, one thing goes well so I have to scupper another, or at least that's what it feels like.  I always have an excuse for eating too much, and then an excuse for not exercising.   

I don't know how to get out of this cycle.  Well in theory I do, stop eating and get off my arse, but I'm not doing it.   I have done it in the past, I don't know what was different then, but I need to get back to that place, so I can start to like my body again.

I was once asked how much I like my body out of 10, I gave it a 3, I have to try and at least get over 5.

My diamond shoes are too tight..........

I will apologise now for stealing a title from a magazine article I once read.   I often feel like a bit of a fraud having depression.  I have a good life, I had a good childhood, my parents are lovely and were supportive, they seemed to expect a lot from me, but I'm not sure if they did or I just thought they did.  I did well at school, I had friends, though I was never Miss Popular.   Then I went to a good university, graduated and got a good job in the City.  I met a nice man, got married in my mid twenties and am still married.   Two years ago I had a beautiful little girl who I adore and seems to like me.  I still have a good job, a nice home and a good relationship with my husband and my parents.


So why am I depressed?  Honestly, I don't know.  This is why I feel such a fraud.   I should be happy, I should be content, but the problem is whatever I'm doing I should be doing it better.   I should be a better employee, I should be a better manager, I should be a better mother, I should be a better wife and I should be a better friend.   Despite everything I've done, I should be doing it better, I feel like I'm letting everyone down.   It got tough when I was working 12 hour days, I was on the 0557 train in the morning, worked hard, but came home for 6pm, put my daughter to bed and then worked again for a few hours.   And I had to work a few hours at the weekend.   I felt like I couldn't give enough to work or to home. But then this sounds like excuses, I should just suck it up and get on with things.   This is my lot and ending up with depression as a result is ridiculous, lots of people work hard, lots of people have families, so why can they cope and I can't.  It's because I'm weak, and despite my good life I just ruin things and make a mess of it.

Learning from your mistakes...............

My name is Maggie and I'm not allowed to make mistakes.    Well that is not quite true, I am allowed to make mistakes, but only if they have no negative impact on anyone else.  And mistakes teach me one thing; I am useless, rubbish, crap............

If I make a mistake, if I break something, if I spill something, if I forget something, then I beat myself up about it.   I hate myself for making a mistake, it mean I'm rubbish, I'm weak, I'm letting people down.   It's a strange conundrum, I know I'm not perfect, but I can't make mistakes and let other people down.   If they are relying on me, or even if they're not, I feel I must do everything for them.  But at the same time it is unrealistic to expect people to help me.  I should not ask for help or support, I should not ask for a favour.  Not only is it imposing on others, it is also a sign of weakness.  I should be able to do everything for myself and shouldn't expect to rely on others.   I'm terribly British, stiff upper lip and just get on with it, that kind of thing.

I'm trying to be better, I'm trying to ask for help when I need it. However sometimes I slip, I should have asked for help with childcare tomorrow, but I haven't.  This means I will have to cancel my counselling appointment, and it is the last one covered in my private health insurance.    Then I guess I am either on my own, going with NHS, or carry on paying ourselves for help.  We can afford the latter, but I don't want to mention it to my husband as he isn't massively supportive about counselling.   Therefore I will probably end up going with the former.  I've liked counselling, it's really good to talk to someone, and this way I don't feel like I'm burdening someone, she's being paid to listen to me.   I can't talk to my friends much, I feel like I'm bothering them.   Again this is a sign of weaknesses from me and I can't be weak.

This unwillingness to ask for help and this belief that I cannot make mistakes and must take responsibility for everyone and everything  has contributed to my depression.   It becomes an overwhelming burden on myself and I'm trying to deal with.    

Anyone fancy babysitting tomorrow morning....................

Depression - the history

I think I'm currently going through my 4th period of depression, although I've only every had one formally diagnosed before.

The first time I think I was depressed I was about 7. I didn't know I was depressed at the time, this was northern England in the early 1980s, depression was like avocados and meat served rare, we'd heard of it, but never thought it would happen to us.   It's only since being diagnosed as an adult and remember how I felt that I put two and two together.

I moved to a new school when I was 7 and it was difficult.   I am bright, I'm good at maths, languages, not bad at history and sciences.  But I am not good with my hands and quite clumsy.    I do wonder if I was at school now if I would get a mild dyspraxia diagnosis.   The school I was at focused on things like knitting and neat hand writing as well as the more usual things.   Because of the focus on these areas I started to feel like a failure.   I also went from having a very best friend to struggling to find friends. 

My memories from this period are of feeling desperately unhappy and not knowing why.  It wasn't unusual to spend Sunday afternoon crying and not wanting to go back to school.  I described it as feeling homesick despite the fact I was at home.   I'm not sure how I got through it, but the support of my parents was crucial.  I had very kind and loving parents, it was a good home.  I think that was what made it more confusing, because I wasn't sure what was making me unhappy, it didn't seem right or proper.   I didn't want for anything so why wasn't I happier.

Looking back it was a horrible period, I felt like I was letting everyone down, in particular my parents, when I just wanted to make them proud.   I think this was the start of not wanting success for myself, but wanting it in order to seek approval from others, this has got me into all kind of messes as I've grown up.

Now I just want to make sure my daughter doesn't go through the same thing.  I want to make sure she is happy, she is motivated to do her best, but doesn't feel under pressure and doesn't beat herself up if and when she doesn't manage to achieve exactly what she wants.    Don't get me wrong, I had a happy childhood, but I want my daughter's to be even more amazing.