Yesterday I cried about 5 times. Not bad going considering the amount of mind altering medication I’m on at the moment. It’s not a particularly bad thing. It feels good. Without sounding like a lunatic I like a good cry. Sometimes life is unbearably frustrating and you need an outlet. I don’t take drugs (excluding prescribed ones obviously) and don’t drink massively, so occasionally weeping into my cat’s fur solidly for prolonged periods is essential. I jest of course. Well, only a little. The first part was true – I do like a blub. Medication and generally suffering from a chronic illness can all affect your mood and often I find myself so angry/sad/happy/grumpy all at once. All INTENSELY so.
I’m in the midst of writing a book about my disease. Last night, a Saturday night to be precise, I found myself in the unfortunate and rather embarrassing position of listening to ‘Crying’ by Roy Orbison on repeat whilst gently weeping over previously penned sentences about how awful the past few years have been. All hilariously laughable to me now, and even at the time really, but I’ve accepted now that I need to give into my emotions from time to time. It’s not a lack of character to admit you feel weak. In fact if anything, it shows how strong you are. Reaching a hand out to ask for help is one of the most intimidating things you can do, and I’ve struggled to accept that I need those hands over the last few years. If you ever ask me how I am I ALWAYS say I’m fine. It drives people crazy. I’m never or at least rarely ever; fine. It’s just 100% easier than complaining or having to relay the same old story. No one who loves me wants me to feel anything less than fine and I don’t want them to be forced to share my pain. Right wee Mother Theresa eh?
In all seriousness, anyone who is having a hard time needs someone to talk to. Even if that person can’t help – it often a massive boost just talking outside of your own head about how you feel. I know that my partner, friends and family can’t cure my disease. Much as I know they would like to, and often simply hearing that is enough. I know that when I feel a little better I can laugh heartily at the times when I felt utterly pathetic. It’s disheartening to know that these moments will happen again and again, but also a little reassuring. I don’t want to pretend anymore and I don’t want to feel alone. No one should ever have to. I have to suffer from this disease but it also affects everyone I love, so why shouldn’t I let them share in the good and the bad with me? Talk to someone about how you low you feel when you need to and let them help. Someone around you always wants to.
And if all else fails, buy a cat and a Roy Orbison cd, and OWN Saturday night.