Today has been the darkest day of a dark week. The darkness was caused by an overwhelming and emotional task which I just can’t seem to see an end to. There doesn’t seem to be a light at the end of this tunnel.
I’ll apologise here at the outset. This will be a post full of mixed metaphors and convoluted stream of consciousness stuff. I can’t really help it. That’s how my mind is working (or not) at the moment.
I’m in the final throes of separating my life from my ex-husband. The divorce was finalised almost a year ago but we are still tied together in respect of some financial and property matters. At this point of the proceedings, I have need to sell the house I’m living in. So I’m packing and downsizing and dredging up all kinds of memories and feelings. I’m overtaken with the realisation that I have too much stuff. I have too many clothes. I have more music (multiple copies thereof) than any person needs. (Occupational hazard for a choir director, I guess.) Ugh. Just stuff. Stuff everywhere. And most of it is rubbish.
With all of that going on and being a breastfeeding mother, I’m finding myself torn in so many directions but ultimately leaving myself utterly ripped apart. My partner and my mum are helplessly witnessing my destruction up close and personal.
The feeling inside me is a jumble of analogies. I feel hollowed out. The walls are closing in. Dogs are barking. Big, black, barking dogs.
The intensity of the task this week has put our Lenten activities on the back-burner. Perhaps, I should have kept going with them. They were uplifting and kept me focussed. I think tonight I will put them back in my mind and allow myself to find the calm that only contemplation can give.
My name is Fiona and I have depression.