An apology

It has been too long dear reader, since I was last here and I must apologise for my neglect but I have had a flare up of my condition. And so, I feel I must put my serious head on for a little while and tell you a little of my story.

I suffer from two health problems which lead to my disability; I have chronic pain syndrome as a result of polyarthropy, caused by what they believe to be multiple-connective tissue disorder. In other words I have faulty wiring which causes my immune system to attack all of my connective tissue (that's the white stuff that isn't muscles and fat). You think your joints pop? Well mine crackle and crunch and grind! I feel as if I have gone rusty and all of my joints ache constantly (except my back....so far that's good....shhh). I try to stay active, as much as possible, but the pain is restricting...I also have a tendency towards inflamed bursa...these are sacs that cushion the joints and bones; typical inflammations are those of 'house maid's knee' or tennis elbow'. I have them under my heels and on my 'sit upon', which makes both standing and sitting painful, I am also prone to tendonitis as a result of favouring certain joints when I'm in pain.

So with all that you won't be surprised to learn that I have clinical depression as well, although to be fair, that was a condition diagnosed before my physical problems really started. People seem to die around me, a lot! (you have been warned) And it was not dealing with these deaths that triggered the depression in the first place....Now it's like an old friend (a not particularly welcome one, who overstays their welcome and has far too many annoying habits) who comes to visit at the most inconvenient times. Now let me be straight about this, depression is not 'feeling misereable' and a bit listless. Depression is crushing; it's rigour without death, an all encompassing ennui. 

Depression fluctuates, for months I plod along with low levels of depression, I can muster the energy to do a few of the day to day things needed for survival. I managed to obtain a reasonable degree (2:1), over the last three years, although not without additional support and countless extensions. But I was determined to finish it, even with another death in the family just towards the end. The fact that I handed in incomplete assignments at the end of the course should have warned me that things were going to explode at some point. Depression is a constant battle and the minute you relax it swamps you like a dark cloud. With me, I shut down and retreat. I sleep for twelve/thirteen hours a day. I don't contact anybody; I can't even bring myself to use a telephone. I stop dealing with the day to day stuff, bills don't get paid, clothes don't get washed, meals don't get cooked....life just grinds to a halt. And that's when the guilt sets in...followed by the paranoia; until even this becomes too much effort. Life becomes a constant battle against inertia. Just being alive requires every ounce of energy and difficult tasks (such as writing this or eating, for example) get pushed to one side.

Churchill, a famous sufferer of the condition (although how he managed to deal with it, run a country and win a war I have no idea!), likened his depression to a black dog, with whom he would fight. It's an interesting allegory. I often liken mine to being stuck down a well, on some days you can climb up high enough to see the daylight, but on others the sides are slick and you cannot get a purchase on them.

So, if Ms Monkey is not about for a while, do not take offence. Sometimes the world is just too big a place and Ms Monkey needs to sit in a darkened corner, listen to dark music and eat lots of chocolate (dark chocolate of course!). I hasten to add, this does not make me an emo.....I have no desire to slice lumps out of my flesh, no desire to throw myself dramatically from a cliff top and no desire to be miserable! Besides, emos weren't invented when Ms Monkey was a 'young thing'!

Until next time mes amis xx

Matthew Johnstone. Copyright SANE