Fighting the wolves. Again.

black and white lavenderFor a long time I’ve been fighting the black dog. I have blogged often enough about the black dogs. In fact, for those who don’t know, I use my blog as therapy. Over the years, I was put on antidepressants, I had to fight to not have them. I eventually sopped taking AD’s because I felt they made me quite numb and not responsive to the world around me. I thought that my quality of life would be better if I consciously fought the black dogs without the AD’s, then I would be more receptive to those around myself.

Those who visit here will know that I have had my bouts of the black dog, but I have always managed to bounce back. I did not however take into consideration that when the black dogs saw that I have possibly mastered their cunning, that they would call in the big guns, the wolves.

For the past few months the wolves have been tormenting me so much that I have not been able to write, I haven’t been able to focus on anything for terribly long. I find that in this world there is not much understanding as people need from us what they need. If we are unable to give what they need, then we will be placed at the end of the list.

Today, however, I can let some of these words and emotions out. I am medicated (lightly) at the moment, not as badly as before, but just enough to keep the nerves from jangling and to keep me closing in on myself internally. If you understand what my previous sentence means then I am grateful for the understanding, if you don’t understand, then just dismiss that.

I do not have the blues… Recurrent Major Depression has nothing to do with the blues. It is a very bad internal balance which affects my thought process, my self-respect and just everything overall.

I am not apologising for anything, I just feel the need to say. Often when I write things out, I sometimes gain wisdom from re-reading my words. It helps me look at myself objectively, and sometimes that helps me to find a way out of the dark woods and away from the wolves.

I’m sorry, but I just have to write this post…

PosRose1-p-For those of you who have been reading my blog for a long time now will know that I suffer from “Recurrent Major Depression.” You will also have realised that I blame my years of growing up with an abusive father for this depression. I suppose I could be wrong, maybe I was just born broken, who knows. It was, for this reason, that I started a blog, I found it therapeutic to write.

I have been feeling very low, very blue, or rather all the shades of darkness anyone could imagine. I’ve been trying to pull myself out of this, but it’s very difficult. Reading helps me a lot when I’m not feeling right, but that sometimes also does not work as I can’t concentrate.   I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. It’s as if I just can’t be me.

I have been trying to analyse why this depression has hit me so heavily again and then out of the blue I realised…

A few weeks ago I received an invitation on the Saturday afternoon for the birthday of my father that was on the next day, the Sunday. They obviously did and didn’t want me there, but decided that it would probably be right, for appearances you know, for me to be invited, hence the very late invitation. I obviously did not go, because why the hell should I have? What’s more is I didn’t even have the decency to RSVP.

A day or two after the “birthday bash.” I saw photos on Facebook of my father and all the family around him. As if he is so special. There were comments from his grandchildren and the rest of the family which said things like “Oupa, we love you so much.”

I know that I am the only person within the family who suffered his abuse. I think he knew it would be too dangerous to abuse anyone else; otherwise it would tarnish his wonderful image. He has managed to make me look like the bad one. The daughter who does not love or respect him. This is typical behaviour of an abuser. My family, except for my mother, is unaware of the abuse. I was such an outcast already so telling my story about him will just make them shun me more.

There have been one or two cases in the media in which women have taken their alleged abusers to court years later. I don’t think I have that much gumption. I am not strong enough, and I don’t want to relive events. I have however heard on different occasions where people have commented on these cases that are being written about in the media, as to why these women took so long to come forward with their accusations. Somehow it seems that people automatically think that because the accusations came so many years later that it can’t be true.

When an abuser abuses a child or a vulnerable person, or a person who may be an adult but has no power. They use threats, and they know just which threats to use. They will think nothing of telling a child that something terrible will happen to her mother if she tells. Already they are being harmed by this abuser so, in the mind of the abused, they do not think that this is just a mere threat.  Emotional blackmail, thats what it is.

So, here I sit again, thinking, hurting, feeling sick and not being able to cope because of that stupid little trigger.  I will get better and pull out of this feeling sooner or later, but for now it lingers.

I feel so alone, I know I have some lovely and very beautiful souls around me which I thank God for, but still I feel desperately alone…in my mind.

It’s the way they say it.


I recently heard about an acquaintance who had died.  I did not know this man very well at all and only knew about this because of the business circle  and so word got around.  I was sad for the family and friends of this young man.  Later one of his associates mentioned that he had died from depression.

“I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.” ―           John Keats

Now, being a person who suffers from “Recurrent Major Depression” I am aware of the stigma attached to depression. Those who don’t understand depression or have never had a depressive episode often just don’t get it. They are the ones who will tell others to “snap out of it.”

Depression is often not seen as an illness. People would rather say that a person committed suicide than say that a person died of depression. When people die of other illnesses, their deaths aren’t described in detail; just the name of their illness will be used yet not so with depression; there will always be the description.

“I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of people’s eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.”
Sylvia PlathThe Bell Jar  

My point is that depression is a real illness; people do die from it.  It is not a feeling of being just sad or blue; it is a dark, and lonely place, which very few understand or even try to understand.   Please be kind to those who suffer from it.

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This is the reason I started blogging. I found it to be a good way of telling it the way I see and feel it. The thing that makes me very sad, and lately especially, don’t know why, but when I look back and see what a deep dark hole I was in at one particular time, I feel so ashamed. Logically that is silly, isn’t it, because I should look back and think about how I held on with all my might… I should think that way, but I don’t.

I am grateful to have held on and that I was able to use the little courage I had to keep going.


Passage B&W
slow dark thud
that sways
like a pendulum
corners of my mind
slow rhythm
waves of dark and light
swinging with the pendulum
swings this way
swings that way
rhythm is lost
stuck in the dark
stays there
less light
uneven swaying…

Forgive, Forget, Repent.


Todays Prompt: Share a story where it was very difficult for you to forgive the perpetrator for wronging you, but you did it — you forgave them.

I’ve written so much about forgiveness, and so often that I just don’t think I can do so again.  It is a difficult subject for me.  It is also not the right time for me to reach down into that dark corner right now, so I thought I would follow the photographers prompt, which is: Repentance.  The picture which came to mind immediately was this picture of a little chapel I came across a little while ago, out in the country.
To join in on the Daily Prompt, click here.

When I don’t want help


Is it easy for you to ask for help when you need it, or do you prefer to rely only on yourself? Why?

Now that is a good question.  I ask for help on small things, for instance; I will ask my mom to do small things for me such as putting hems in the school uniforms for my girls.  The reason I ask her is two-fold; one is because I often find that there are not enough hours in the day and my mom is a very good seamstress.  She will then sit there patiently in the sun, and hand stitch the hems perfectly.

There is another reason I ask certain people small things; that is because I feel that everyone needs to be needed, and often when people reach the age of the children being all grown up and their previously hectic lives have slowed down so much, they no longer feel wanted of needed.

When it comes to my own emotional things; when I get all dark and broody – then I don’t want help.  That is when I have a desperate need to help myself.  I think when one has experienced being medicated and placed in therapy or hospitalised for this condition the realisation becomes very clear (well, to me anyway) that only I can help myself.


Soldier on alone…


Today’s Daily PromptWhen you’re unwell, do you allow others to take care of you, or do you prefer to soldier on alone? What does it take for you to ask for help?

As far as the bouts of depression go, I go that alone, because the times that people knew about it, it caused them fear and worry.  I prefer not to be the cause of anyone else’s fear and worry.  There are those who spot my bouts because of my physical appearance at those times.  I tend to go a little pale and those dark rings around the eyes sometimes appear, but then its easy to just simply say I am nauseous or some other white lie.  So, those are the reasons that I go it alone and my reply to the prompt. I do talk about it here on the blog though…as you may have noticed by now.


photo credit: h.koppdelaney via photopin cc