Reality of the day to day

It has been over a week since I returned home from my respite sanctuary, and with each passing day I want to write and build on my reflections. The reality is that reality has hit home and I am still trying to process the world around me. I want to be able to process it in a new light, one that is based on my greater understanding of my illness and the techniques and reflections that I had during my time away. Reality is not letting me have a bar of it. So I forfeit the timeline approach to accounting what I have been thinking and trade it in for this, the conscious not lineal approach.

Days after arriving home, the joy and euphoria slipped out on an evening tide and left me total devoid of spirit. Not even the interaction with my son and wife, who I had longed to be back in the arms of, could halt the fall into realisation that the world around me had not changed, nor had my illness. What had changed was my understanding and my utility belt of tools to deal with it. Now you would think that with this realisation I would simply reach down and pull out a newly acquired implement of knowledge to thwack this depressive train of thought, not so. No I was devastated to face an environment that was void of nursing staff, group times and like minded depressives to lean on. This thankfully only lasted a few days and without fail the unquestionable love of a three year old quickly raised my overall mood.

Still I have been bereft of motivation other than the menial daily routine of getting up, taking my son to pre-school and then listlessly making my way through the remainder of the day until I pick him up again. Yes I have ticked things off and yes I certainly am in a better state of mind since coming home, but I still feel as though I have suddenly stepped onto a rather fast travelator and I have no bearings of which direction I may be headed in.

I know that I am more focussed on tasks and less distracted than before, but in writing this post it is the first time that I have been able to articulate anything in a while. It frustrates me. I so want to be on top powering towards a more manageable me. Alas I realise once again that I am still riddled with an illness.

So here I am once again finding myself trying, almost constantly, to reflect. Reflecting on this life of mine a week after coming home. Home a place that seems to have stayed static in my absence. A place still cluttered with reminders of what has gone before. Rooms still filled with frustrations and unfinished business.

I try getting away from the house to gain some perspective. Sitting in a café, it’s a busy window that I look out of the cars and traffic are constant, all oblivious to my churning, confused and battered mind. A multitude of vehicles and people, all, for a brief moment heading in the one direction, there are crossroads and even then one after the other they go by. It’s so fleeting it is a true representation of my trains of thought. No time to give those in front or behind the slightest recognition. If only I could make it all stop and slowly talk to each one, and in turn they could converse with those in front and behind, what sense we would make, but no not today not ever.

Look at all these elements of purpose. Well at least to me these people, sounds and moving objects seem to have a purpose. Here I sit acknowledging then yet at the same time wondering and searching for my own purpose, my own reason for setting a course. A course to anywhere would do just so I could stop this blasé drifting of my mind through this medicated fog.

I want to train, to refocus this mind and its thoughts, calling on the experience of clarity and focus I felt I had only a week or so ago. Yet I drift. Drift around the seemingly structured world that is ignorant of this peril I am grappling with.

Another coffee please.

I frustrate myself with all this symbolism and abstract view of my surrounds, bent by me in an attempt to articulate the torment this confused mind, but as always I am unable to be practical about it. I am unable to take my analysis of things and apply the seemingly self evident solutions to myself. How do these faces that are passing me by manage to do it? Should I take strength in the knowledge that I and not them have stripped away all the self imposed, self medicating remedies I once relied to hide behind, to appear functional? Or accept that the majority of those passing me by do not have to carry the weight and burden of everyday in the same way as I have to. Is it really just the minority who manage to function unassisted while the rest of us medicate recreate or degenerate as each day passes us by.

I listen to the conversations around me, I observe the gestures and feel as though they are all strategising, plotting, manipulating their immediate surroundings and audience jus to make the now and therefore the future bearable, liveable. I no longer feel I have the energy or mental aptitude to do this. That takes conversing, engaging forever working towards the end result of some task, or goal. The process keeps them steady and assured of their immediate direction in life. I feel like taking them and shaking them; screaming out illogical reasons as to why it is all futile, why if it can’t work for me then how can it possibly work for them, tell them till I am blue in the face why the satisfaction they seek is so temporary so useless in its ability to hold happiness. Doing. Doing. Doing. They are all doing something to keep it at bay, to make it go away.

I want a day of no regrets. Purpose they all appear to have purpose. What if mine is, is nothing more than to be ill and broken?

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~ by Rob McClintock on October 28, 2010.

2 Responses to “Reality of the day to day”

  1. be kind to yourself Rob … some days are just blergh and there is no more reason than that … I had a thought …. PROG … see if some prog floating through your headphones will weave a little magic for a short spell … to give your head a break from torturous thoughts …

    I like your wondering if many people feel the same … I think that “coping” is hidden behind a thin glossy veneer and if you scratch the surface there is a lot of angst below …

    *sending you a large non-conversational hug*

  2. Oh Rob. I so agree with Tanya. Be kind to yourself and some days are just blergh. I think people do feel the same but sometimes we try to front it with everything is okay. You hang in there because you have come so far. Bask in Lou and Euan because they believe in you. x

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