I’ve been stuck in my thoughts this week. Skimming quickly over and over the same things, not looking too closely but not stopping the process either. Like running your fingers back and forward across water, dipping in ever so slightly but not getting too deep.
It’s been six months since I separated.
This week I lied to someone, told them I would be taking the kids to Sydney rather than tell them that we couldn’t come to a birthday party because it wasn’t my turn to have the kids. I wasn’t sure of them, or of myself, so I rattled off a random excuse and looked away. A few minutes later I shared that truth with others I was a little more sure of; again I was afraid but laughed my way through it… the more I laugh the worse it really is.
I’ve been shocked into thinking about my own mental health, about how I’m living this new life, in part by the tragic death of Robin Williams. It seems many people have. It’s excruciating and enlightening in equal measure. I’ve thought about the future too, the way my mind works and how and what I focus on. Different articles have varying suggestions about dealing with the dark moments – take solace in the little things, tell people how you’re feeling. I can’t imagine. In the dark spaces of depression, anxiety, self doubt and guilt also reside. Who would you tell if you were certain that you were worthless, that anyone who heard your words would cringe and step back? If you were unsure of how others really felt about you, would you really tell them your truth?
In my own mind there is a storage shed, full of archive boxes with tightly sealed lids. Clearly I don’t have answers. But I must resoundingly agree with calls that mental health has to be discussed more openly and more freely for there to be any hope. And so not to be a hypocrite, here I am. Telling you I’m having bad days, and good. And that I know resoundingly that there is no shame in saying so.
If you need help reach out and call Lifeline on 13 11 44.