It’s almost unbelievable that I was away so long. Each day has merged into one big blur in my mind.
My memories are vague and simple.
Every night I would go to bed and wonder how I’d feel the next day.
Would I be scared? Would I feel normal? Would I be able to get out of bed?
Most days I could wake up when I wanted and do whatever I felt like. No pressure. Yet I didn’t really care what I was going to do the next day, I barely thought about it. My only thoughts were how I was going to feel and how would I cope with those feelings.
When your life goes on pause, you would expect that I would get bored quickly. But I wasn’t. All the usual enthusiasm one would feel from time off from work and being looked after by mum (No cooking! No washing! No cleaning!)…I didn’t have. My only concern was getting out of bed, not being alone and not to feel like this anymore.
So I guess pausing my life was necessary.
From day one I was homesick. Wanted to go straight back to London, straight back to my friends and straight back to work. Or I thought I did. Looking back, I think, I was homesick for me. For the person I once was. The strong, independent woman that lived alone and enjoyed it most of the time. Now, here I was, not sure of anything and scared that any progress I’d made that day would be stolen by the night, as it had been more than once already.
When my life was paused, my only focus was on the mundane daily activities: Get up, get dressed…or pull on a hoodie…cup of tea…water…watch TV…maybe writing some of the thoughts that crept up and tumbled around my mind just to get them out, in a vain hope that they will make more sense on paper.
Now I’ve pressed play. I’m home again.
And the word ‘play’ seems somewhat fitting as I feel as though I’m ‘playing’ my role. Yet is it living? A TED talk* I listened to had a guy that described the opposite of depression as ‘vitality’. I guess that’s what I feel is lacking. Vitality.
I expected to feel more vitalised being at home with all my stuff and clothes; doing what I want, when I want. I wanted it to feel like it’s an achievement to have gone to the shop and bought pizza, milk and flowers. Yet I’m not quite sure how to ‘validate’ it all (I’m not 100% sure ‘validate is the word…?!) Last week, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it. So I know it’s an achievement yet I sure don’t feel very vitalised by doing it! I feel like a twin sister, that’s stepped into my twin’s shoes, living her life the way I believe it should be played. After 2 weeks away, missing my old life and finally on the way to getting it back, I just thought I would be excited, but I’m not sure I am. There is some familiarity and it feels comforting but I wish I could just, well feel more.
Small steps I guess. Part of me wants to fast forward to the part where I am me again. Where this feel’s like my reality again.
Small steps. Small steps. Step, step, step…
*Listen to the TED talk by Andrew Solomon here: http://www.ted.com/talks/andrew_solomon_depression_the_secret_we_share
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