The Crash

Tuesday was my meltdown, my rock bottom, my brick wall and my cliff edge. It was the day where if I was a computer, my screen would have gone blank and no matter how hard you frantically tapped at keys or pressed for reboot, there would have been no response. My MacBook Air did exactly that to me last year, one minute I was in the middle of my fourth hour of procrastination, no doubt on Pinterest and the next it was a useless chunk of metal and expensive hardware put to waste. Whilst I am no chunk of metal but mere bag of organs, bones and a fragile brain, I definitely right now, feel put to waste.

For weeks, my mind has been a jargon as if you’ve just accidentally changed the font on your letter to Wingdings and forgotten how to undo your error. My concentration is lacking, my memory is non-existent and I am partial to routine bouts of blurred vision mixed in with pretty moderate anxiety on a day to day basis. Put it all together and what have you got? One pretty broken machine whereby no matter how much I frantically hit reboot, there will be no sudden power up and start again.

Before you say it, I am still on Sertraline (anti-depressants) and have been steadily taking them on a very mild dosage since August. By now, there should be some effects and for a period, I did feel an improvement but needless to say, that seems to have worn off and my body seems to have found its own unique way of absorbing this new drug and directing it anywhere but where it is sufficiently needed for a purposeful use. After spending Tuesday in bed exhausted and mixed between crying and sleeping until late Afternoon, I and my Mother both realised, that I had reached breaking point. As my Auntie quite bluntly, and helpfully pointed out, ‘Katie, she’s been far too strong for too long. At some point, something has got to give.’

And she’s right. My time is now. My grief is raw and real that any slight reminder of my Father and his absence brings me to full blown sobbing and intense emotional swings that under no circumstance can I have him back. My smile has faded and I can tell that I am somewhat deadened behind the eyes. All these years of putting on a brave face through mental health issues and personal crisis’ cannot even break the surface of the pain that I am now trying to hide on a daily basis. I cry in the car, on my work breaks, if someone is too kind, if someone is too mean, if a certain song plays or a certain book is placed in my lap. I am like a child, triggered by the slightest thing to fall into a full-blown meltdown. In a nutshell, I’m a wide open, naked, sore and weeping wound that is doing its best to dry and scab out, but instead keeps getting picked at so nothing is given a chance to heal. Sorry, that was a bit of a gross analogy but it seemed in my head the best fit. And right now, my absent memory is a shocking thing to try and recall something less disturbing.

Next week I will return to see my GP as planned and I will be raising that whatever I have been given isn’t working, plus I need to push to get my CBT underway and possibly look into some form of trauma therapy. My pleasant dreams are now scarily turning into dark nightmares taunting me of the disturbing and distressing circumstances of my Father’s death, so any essence of sleep is erased as I wake up exhausted from having to relive the exact moments of my life that cause me endless torture each day. Does anyone else on anti-depressants suddenly find themselves have very vivid and memorable dreams every night? At first, it was quite a novelty, but now it’s just simply tiring.

To help with my move forward into whatever is next, and whilst I try to figure out how to piece myself back together, all the while still trying to focus on University and work commitments, I shall be taking a sort of hiatus from online. I won’t be pressuring to post anything on here unless it feels warranted and my social media presence only exists on Twitter, where I’ll probably also be taking a break for a few weeks to hibernate and feel my way through this dark time.

Before I scoot off, I do however have to say that to the wonderful and kind souls, particularly on Twitter whom I have befriended in recent months, thank you so much for your friendship through this hard time. A simple tweet of 140 (or 280!) characters shouldn’t seem like much, but for me, it is a beacon of hope and a ray of sunshine in my otherwise dark and quiet world right now. Maybe, consider yourself sending out a little hello or virtual hug to someone you pass by on social media and make them feel a little bit cosy and more welcomed on the inside.

Thanks all.


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Writings. Wolfmother.

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