Shouldn't I be feeling better by now?

Six months ago I finally squared up to the snarling black dog that has accompanied me for decades. Looking it in the eye I decided enough was enough. I'd tried to ignore it. Tried to appease it. Tried to distract it with food and alcohol (dogs and booze don't mix well by the way). Despite all my best efforts I had to admit I didn't have the skills for it. I needed to call in the big guns. It was time for the Barbara Woodhouse approach, or whatever the 2015 equivalent was.

Since then I've become very well acquainted with Prozac, answered the question "Do you have any current plans?" over a dozen times and shared my inner most thoughts with a relative stranger every Friday, except over Christmas which is when I realised I really needed it the most.

It's been a hell of a ride and I'm ready to get off now. When I visit my counsellor, sometimes I fudge my responses to the mental health questionnaire I have to complete, to make it look like I'm getting a bit better. He knows I do this. I tell him. Because I should be getting better now shouldn't I?

One of the toughest parts of depression is the progress can be painfully, ridiculously slow. With every day that passes I expect to feel better than I do. I assume other people will expect me to be feel better than I do.  I say "I'm fine" so that I don't have to bore people with my crappy day, my current guilt or the number of times I couldn't get out of my car this week. That's something many people don't realise. Depression can be really boring. Mind numbingly boring.

Yesterday, a non-boring day, I was chatting with someone that I hope will be a friend in the future. Over Scandinavian apple cake we talked about families, work and the mutt. I felt compelled to say that I thought the meds and the therapy were helping. That I was starting to feel better. She said, "It's ok if you're not."

It was a moment of clarity. She was absolutely right. Why hadn't I seen this before? There's no timescale on this illness. To be honest I'm not expecting this to go away. It's part of me, my condition, and I'm learning how to live with it. That means the people around me are having to learn how to live with it too. I recognise this is a big ask. When the dog pins me to the sofa I'm no company. However when it's out for a walk - tail wagging, snapping at the air and barking with excitement - then you don't want to miss that Emma. 

It's time to accept that this is a long haul journey. 

With the people around me I'm travelling first class but it's still going to be a long time sitting in one place. If you could meet me in the arrivals lounge that would be nice. I'll be the one walking comfortably beside my (mostly) well behaved black dog. 

New is always around the corner

If new is always on the horizon, always just around the corner, why do so many of us still wait until January to start fresh? To join a gym. Change jobs. End a relationship. It's as if we believe January 1st is some sort of magical day when anything can happen. And that can only be good. As long as we don't wait 365/6 days if things don't work out.

I don't have any resolutions today. My resolutions started in July last year. Last year. Already my mental health problems are so last year.

They included the usual stuff - think about my health, plan what I really want to do with my career and spend more time with the people I love. But these are huge plans. They're too big. They need to be broken down into smaller goals.

I spent time looking at how I spend my work days and thinking properly about what makes me tick. And not just the tasks I enjoy and can do with ease but also the things that stretch me, in a good way. I began to change who I work with. One of the perks of being self employed is the ability to choose who I work with. For me that had to be people I respected and that were fun to be around. If I can't laugh at work there's no point me being there.

At home I asked myself a simple question "what will happen if I don't do this?" If the ironing isn't done will the family fall apart? I can't claim to have mastered this yet. On my Christmas list I asked for Marie Kondo's book - the life-changing magic of tidying up - even reading the first chapter left me in a better place. Small steps. Positive movement.

And spending time with the people I love? This is the toughest one. Because that group of people has to include me. I can give plenty to friends and family often to the point where I end up neglecting my own well being. Making others happy but not myself. I have a long way to go. I'm really hoping my counsellor can go the distance because I'm no sprinter.

My journey began in the summer of 2015. It continues today, on this first day of 2016. Without resolutions. However like a new notebook it holds the promise of a fresh start. A crisp blank page and a brand new pen.

If you've made resolutions, good luck with them but if they don't work out, make new ones. Every day, every hour, every minute or second is a moment in which we can make a change. A chance to make our lives better. To make ourselves happier. To love ourselves. Maybe love isn't all we need but life's much easier if we have it.