I am not sure what is happening to me this week. I was feeling good on Sunday, probably the best in years, but I woke on Monday morning to that familiar gut wrenching depression. I’ve been here many times before, but experience does little to cushion the blow, or ease the fear of the unknown. No matter how acquainted we are with our own personal monster, there is always an element of uncertainty whenever ‘it’ comes to visit. How long will it stay… how grumpy will it be… will it rip my throat out… can I do anything to improve it. I’ve barely enough energy to function… barely the enthusiasm to get through the day.
I’ve asked myself many times if there’s an element of loss running through this. Paul made a sudden departure and group therapy ended. Even though I feel relieved for escaping the uncertainty, the disappointment is bound to cast a shadow over the closure. But, there’s not a lot I can do about Paul’s sickness and maybe this is a valuable lesson in acceptance.
The group Therapist emailed today. Even though I officially finished last Friday, she’s encouraging me to attend the last group before the Christmas holiday, which is this Friday. I don’t want to. I’m not sure what I can achieve by attending one last group, but I’ll certainly consider it.
There’s not a lot more I can say. Writing is extraordinary difficult, but I thought it’s important to try to connect.