Life changes.
Years ago, I learned how to be up at silly o’clock, to catch a train into London and start work. Sometimes I went to the gym by the office first, then ate breakfast at my desk.
I enjoyed it. Watching the sunrise time change as the year moved, enjoying the peaceful freshness before rush hour. I was awake and got a lot done before most people had started.
Mornings are difficult for me now.
Not so long ago, I had to pull over on my drive to work, because I was crying so hard. I couldn’t continue. I didn’t have the strength to face the day, let alone work with others. I had to return home. Defeated and ashamed.
My own inner sunrise was changing, I think. What had been possible before… now was not. A limit had been reached. I had to rest, regroup, figure out what next. I wasn’t sure how long that would take, or even how best to do it.
I still love watching the dawn. The fresh quiet over the fields when I walk the dogs before the school run begins on the street. I’m in a very different place, geographically and personally. Battles have been fought.
Sometimes those tears still come. I’ve rushed back from the walk and collapsed inside my gate. Or I’ve continued, wiping my eyes and trying to take solace from playing pups (who try to help as best they can). I always carry a handkerchief, just in case.
Mornings aren’t the start of the ‘potential’ of the day for me. What will I do today?
That potential can be overwhelming. Rushing thoughts of what I have to do get faster and faster, until I can do nothing except sit and shake. Himself sits with me if he’s there, caring and concerned. But my illness seems determined to list everything I must do, before berating me for not being able to do any of it. Spiralling chaos.
I try to take mornings gently now. As much routine as I can (things happen, after all). Allowing myself to pause to knit, or just sit and watch the birds run the Kitten Gauntlet in the garden (this is apparently A Thing).
I always have to move and do eventually. That is certainly daunting, and sometimes too much. I have to let the wave of Overwhelm pass. Once the flood ebbs, I may be worn, but then I can see what’s left – priorities remain.
I do what I can. Still exploring the healing process, what my body and mind need. Ups and downs are natural. It can be so very hard.
But it helps me to appreciate every sunrise that I see.
Still here.
The Catbox 
Winter said
I hope it’s ok that I copied and pasted this on my FB page – I gave you credit … I have bipolar (which tends toward the psychotic depressive side) and I know a lot of other people who have mental illnesses … I can completely relate – it’s so hard to go to bed and then so hard to get up every single day
druidcat said
Of course, Winter! I write about it so it doesn’t win. Something creative comes from it, that may help people. We help each other *hugs*
Nicky said
Hello beautiful lady wishing you better days and Imbolc blessings to feel well. I hope you find the strength to make changes if that is what you need. Its OK to cry as we need to heal, I still find myself crying after my love left me last year although now found new love and feel the restoration of a new year. I smiled at the puppies, wonderful affection. It is OK to spend time guilt free in the comfort of the hearth and fits the season. Gradually as the sunlight increases so energy will be restored. You write so well and brave. I have found comfort on my dark days and set back days (it was a very abusive finish to my relationship leaving me with alot of self dpubt) that having set up a circle of friends in a closed fb page when in big head noise difficulty I ask if anyone will take a call, I don’t know if you have tried that, it helps break my inner voice that is not always kind or guilt tripping me. I find sleeping alot and allowing rest is good and walking to work this week helps me to sleep. I found some really great meditations on YouTube and if you have a hypnotherapist near you also found that is good.
Marieke van der Zon said
Wishing you strength and patience, you’ll need it unfortunately. From what I know from your previous work you’ve climbed out before, maybe that helps a little. Which doesn’t mean it does not completely suck to find yourself in that place again. All the best.
Perhaps a really superfluous remark on my part but have you ever tried to use a lightbox? Even if your depression isn’t primarily seasonal it might make the difference between wanting to die until your third cup of coffee midmorning and merely loathing being awake.
A very big hug from Holland. You are awesome
Nimue Brown said
Routine is good. Monday mornings are the worst for me, with the weight of the week’s work bearing down… I have found that planning my time with a diary does help, because I don’t have to decide what to do, I can roll up my sleeves and get on with what I’ve planned. I am very fortunate in having Tom on the other side of the table who affirms by decisions about pacing and what I can manage, and helps me keep going when I feel like I can’t, or stop when I feel like I can’t… it is definitely easier when not trying to do it alone. Wish you lived closer.
Clare Graham said
Thank you Cat for writing this; thank you so much. My struggle is so similar and i feel less alone when i read this. And thank you for the helpful and hopeful things you said. I wish for bright blessings to come your way.