Thursday 6 May 2010


I have dep.ression.

It's in my family. My Dad lives with it and members of his family live with it. I have brushed against it in the past and became thoroughly entangled in it after the loss of our beautiful little George.

I wrote, "I have depr.ession" at the top and it doesn't sound right. You might hear about my "bad days" occasionally but I rarely write about the "d" word as I don't like labels. I'm not embarrassed by it but it's not the whole story. It is not my definition. At the moment it's a big part of me but in a few months (or tomorrow) it will be a small part of me. It is what it is.

For me, I believe that it's a natural reaction to losing George. For me, I don't believe it is forever. I believe I am recovering. Slowly. Perhaps that makes me lucky. Some people cope and some don't and some really don't. Some people recover quicker than others, some never recover fully and most of us are changed forever. It is what it is.

It's like counting the days since George died (563). He wasn't any more absent from yesterday than he will be absent from tomorrow but today his absence is almost palpable. George's whole life has gone. I am sad. It is what it is. When it is. How it is.

I'm not sure I am explaining it very well.

I don't take an.ti depre.ssants. I don't want to take any risk, however small, while we are trying to conceive. Sometimes I think I should. Sometimes I think perhaps it's better to recover naturally. I don't know which "sometimes" is right.

Sometimes the world is bleak.

Sometimes I feel closed shut like a rusty hinge.

Sometimes it is an achievement to get out of bed.

Sometimes it's like being encased in cement.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the enormity of making a cup of tea.

Sometimes I have to search so very hard for beauty.

Sometimes I find it in abundance (quite often right here).

Some times are joyous.

Sometimes I am filled with hope.

Sometimes I am full of creative energy.

Those are great times.

I'd like more of those times please (oh universe).

Today, finally, it was recognised.

Not by Doctor Compassion; he knows.

But by the State.

I attended a trib.unal today to decide whether I am actually entitled to the ben.efit I receive. To award me points for sadness.

It was in a county court room *gulp* and terrifying.

One doctor and one lawyer and one clerk and one crying mother with no son.

Outcome: Yes, you are entitled.
In other words:  That old codger who assessed you in October had his head stuck up his... umm... assessment.

I'm not sure this is a win or a victory but it certainly takes away some of the stress as we have been living with this uncertainty since October.



One foot in front of the other, sidestep, step back, leap forward (all with a bit of a limp).


  1. Walking (limping) with you. And raising my cup of tea to you today for your small victory.


  2. I have depression, too, Barb. And I know all about the achievement that it can be some days to get out of bed. So glad that the powers that be over there are finally seeing it for what it is and giving you a break for once. Much love to you.

  3. I'm glad that the tribunal found in your favour and that the outcome will remove some of the stress in your life. Wishing more of the good times for you. xo

  4. Amen. So many words right out of my mouth.

    And I get SO mad at family members sometimes when they tell me what I ought to do to combat depression. Thank God for my therapist, who says, "Your son is dead. That calls for some depression, my friend."

    I love her.

    Thinking of you and glad for something going your way today!

  5. I'm glad to hear you've been recognized and found deserving, though I hate that the government has the right to call any of us deserving or otherwise...

    Of course depression is normal right now, and you're already a step ahead because you are aware, you see it coming, and you're taking steps to keep it reasonably controlled. You're an amazing, strong woman and I am so happy to see you doing so well. I know you might not feel like you're doing well, but you really are.

  6. I have it too Barb and I treat it with Effexor. I almost went out of my mind loony with PPD with my first child so I knew to expect a relapse after the twins. When Calvin died I plunged headlong into darkness, some days I just wanted to die along with are not alone my friend. I too have a very difficult time with many of what you have mentioned above. Our children are dead, of course we're depressed. Hugs

  7. Hugs, Barb. There are many of us with you.

  8. I'm so glad that you had that (small?) win!!

    But as for the rest of your post... I could have written it for you. And I'm having one of those really, really bad days. Sooky lala style. What to do, what to do. The universe is all wrong. I need to fix it, but apparently I can't, and the world keeps turning and I want to get off.
    It's a day that the thought passes through my mind that I 'look forward' to dying just so as I can be with my son - the missing piece of my aching heart, just to sound proverbial. But is that so wrong?

    I wish we were closer in distance, Barb. Misery loves company :) and mine sure could use another misery to share a cuppa with!!

  9. Thinking of you.
    I too have IT. I was on tablets but they made me feel wierd. They dried my tears but piled my insides with held in grief,so much so that i thought i was going to explode one day.. so i came off them and now just take each day as it comes.
    sending you lots of hugs xx

  10. I have depression too Barb, and I know just how difficult it can be. Kudos to the powers that be for getting it right.

  11. Hoping this relieves some stress. Thinking of you.

  12. Big ((HUGS)) that this is resolved. Hoping the clouds clear soon.

  13. With the tribunal outcome, I hope you have some well-deserved stress relief finding its way to you!

    I wish I had some words to help ease the other situation. I know it's difficult to know what to do. Countless and varied opinions, added to the fact that the very nature of that "D word" beast makes it difficult to make a decision. With all of my heart I hope you can feel strengthened by all of us who love you so dearly!!

    And you are exactly right, there will never be one word that is your definition. You are far more than any one word could ever describe.

    Love you and thinking of you.

  14. i'm not sure "congratulations" in the right thing to say, but i know it is a big deal to be validated in this way and to not have to take on an additional financial burden when you are already suffering. so - congratulations!

    D is in my family too, though perhaps mildly. i too resist the drugs. i resist being rushed into feeling better. we are grieving dammit!

    keep taking good care of yourself - you know better than anyone else what you need.


  15. One step at a time, sweet one... That is all you can do. Be gentle with yourself. You are hurt in a way that time cant heal; it just takes the edge off. Take each day, one foot in front of the other, and you'll make it. You already are.

    Hugs, dear friend.

  16. Thank you for posting this. I struggle with it as well. I also recieve benefits for the problem and it is a relief to have a small monetary cushion so to speak, if you fall.
    I've noticed that there is something about beautiful, talented, creative people like yourself, that find themselves feeling the darkness. Missing a precious child, will do it as well..
    May you have more creative and happy days, than non-productive and sad ones. May you go easy on yourself either way..
    xo Lindsay

  17. Oh, Barb. I've been on hiatus from blogland for a couple of months and I'm so sorry to read you've had to go through this. I'm glad you had your right to benefits upheld. I can't imagine the additional stress on top of your grief. Sending you love and thinking of your George and mine. (((Hugs)))



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