01-Nov-2009 18:25
Yesterday I went to the beach, the first time for many years. I climbed down from the van and made my way along a sandy path across the sand dunes towards the beach. The sand was soft, my legs were very weak from years of inactivity, yet I desperately wanted to see the sea again. I persevered and forced my shaking, aching legs to carry on. I came to the end of the reasonably flat pathway and saw it dropped off sharply down to the beach and almost cried because I knew, I could never get back up the path if I ventured on down to the beach. My years of hiding away from the public due to my depression, had driven all the muscle strength from my body and I now stood a weakened shell of the person I once was, looking longingly at the beach I might never walk on again. Visions of the carefree child who had once raced up and down the sand dunes with wild abandon flooded into my mind, I so wished I had the strength to just race away up and down through the grasses and ice plants, as free as a bird.
Depression has been my companion for 60 years, since I was a small, insecure little girl and for many years, even after I suffered my first mental breakdown at the age of 13, I never knew I suffered from it. I had grown up seeing my dad suffer from his nerves and knew the distress a mental breakdown can cause and it wasn’t until I was 46 years old and into my fourth breakdown, unassisted by medical help, that I did some serious thinking about my health.
It was soon after that that, after the death of yet another family member, that hubby and I sold our house in the city and moved away the family into the country to get a new start in life, but little did I know that our adopted son would walk out of our lives, our brother in law, my mother and my darling husband were all to die within ten months, so soon after us moving. With the sudden death of my husband, I fell into the deepest, blackest, inescapable pit I had ever seen. It was then I reached out for my first medical help, but I wasn’t coping so my daughter and I moved back home to where I was born, seeking the security in my old surroundings.
Life was not about to give me a break, the problems still came one after the other, my life was in a turmoil and I had a heart attack, which was very helpful in turning my life around with a new outlook on life, but I developed panic/anxiety attacks due to further serious bumps in my road. One more house move, the buying of my first computer and joining an awesome chat group was a mixed blessing, I now had people to talk to, but I became a recluse, my muscular strength disappeared and my health worsened to the point of I actually thought I was dying.
Radio Live talkback has been a great companion for 18 years, the callers and hosts were my friends and then along came Mike King and his Nutter’s club on a Sunday night. Him, his helpers and members have been my salvation. I am now going for short walks and I am seeing a physiotherapist and a dietician for my weight problems, I also make myself go shopping once a week and for me that is a giant step forward. I am finding my depression and panic attacks are not quite so severe now and I am coping without medication.
Anyone who has any kind of nervous, or mental complaint, or a dependency on drugs or alcohol, will benefit greatly by being a member of the Nutter’s Club, they come highly recommended. Their information is never ending and extremely good, both professional and from life experience and everyone there are so kind and caring.
The Blogettes