It's Not All Gloom

Although My Man is finding everything a great trial( he keeps heaving heavy sighs, and doesn't want music on) it isn't all gloom and despondency. I'm trying to retain my natural optimism. I'm making plans. I do not want 2008 to pass by in the depressing blur that was 2007. Looking back I can see just how sad and depressed I also had become. Some of this was as a result of unresolved grief. I had endured several losses over the last 5 years. Much loved friends, family members and finally our 2 cats. Losses which coincided with the sudden down turn in MyMan's health. I therefore didn't perhaps allow these feelings of bereavement and loss to be recognised properly. I was burying all my upset and anguish. I thought it would be worse to grieve openly. I was wrong. It had to come out in some way. Eventually it did.

I kept pushing myself to just keep going. Food became a great solace. I became a comfort eater. Preparation and cooking became a chore. Apart from baking cakes which I've always found therapeutic. I also became an enthusiastic eater of my cakes. For our main meals I became a lazy cook. Careless of fat content.

Lack of conversation or company at home drove me out to meet friends to talk and laugh over coffee - and cakes. Socialising meant I didn't have time to walk as much as usual. A foot problem also restricted me. I figured that it was my mental well being that needed nurturing more than my physical. So excess weight crept on weekly. I've always liked loose clothes so I didn't always notice that I was slowly filling up the spare spaces. I still ate a good diet of fruit and veges but it was extra treats. Blood pressure very good, blood sugar levels excellent and low cholesterol meant I didn't take much notice of the extra fat. Being overweight, fat or obese meant nothing.

But then the change in MyMan at Christmas meant we started to socialise together again. I had a glimpse of how life used to be and thought we were returning to how 'things used to be'. I started to make plans. I wanted to shop and buy new clothes. At this point I became aware of how fat I had become. I resolved that this problem should be sorted - soon. I changed my diet. I now take care to skim off fat from casseroles, less potatoes, less carbs, less fat, more time, more thought, more care taken. Weight started to shift. It started to go - weekly. Slowly but surely. Life is far from perfect so I still have the odd naughty treat.

I thought that my weight wasn't stopping me from doing anything I wanted to do. But then I thought 'I've not had a massage for 4 years'. Why not? Because I don't want to bare my body to a therapist. So I have promised myself when I've lost a stone I will treat myself to a massage. I've started walking again. It's more a pain than a pleasure but I assume that will change at some point. I've also started to study Tai Chi exercises and intend to find a class. I'm planning to take a few days at a health spa in a few months and to meet up with a friend for a weekend break in Glos where I can meet up with old neighbours and work colleagues.

I now recognise and make allowance for the fact that while life is hard for MyMan there is nothing that I am able to do to relieve his pain or raise his spirits. I've been unable to do so whatever I've tried. While I've been dragged down to the edge of that black pit to join him it still hasn't been as bleak a picture as he paints it. But I need to make sure my view point doesn't change. I have to look after my physical and mental health, regardless.

I feel more positive than I have for many a year. I am making plans ...

Loss Adjusters

We have both been down. And irritable with each other. We are trying to adjust to loss. Loss of hope. For us loss adjustment means making decisions on several outstanding issues. Issues such as the old 1995 Rover that sits in the garage 6 days out of 7. Only taken out once a week it often needs the battery charger on before it will fire into life. It takes all the garden rubbish to the dump. Several skip bags at a time. My old car. Old reliable. But I now find heavy to steer.

We only really need one car. It was very hard for MyMan to cope when he let go of his large car 3 years ago. A sign of recognition that he was no longer an executive in need of a car for travelling around the nation. Trouble shooting as he went here and there. I used to have to drive it on a round trip of 30 miles once a week just to keep it going. It was completely impractical for non motorway lifestyle.

Now it is my turn. My cars. My loss of independent independence. My Jazz although wonderful and fun to drive just can't cope with the amount of garden waste that is taken to the dump each week. A large lush garden with many evergreen trees and shrubs growing continuously throughout the year. Too much to shred. Too much to rot down in one of the 4 compost bins. It would mean several trips a week just to the dump. So the Rover and the Jazz are to go to be replaced by a different vehicle. I find the Jazz such fun to drive and dislike the thought of losing it. But if we go down to only one car we need a larger, sturdier vehicle. Something MyMan will feel safer in. More secure should another thoughtless, careless driver slam into us coming round a sharp bend while talking on their mobile phone.

MyMan was told last week that 'this is it'. We had our suspicions it was so. But now we know. It will not get any better. So were are grieving for our lost dreams. The dreams we had when we moved south from Gloucestershire. Of rambling walks throughout the east Devon countryside. Trips from north to south Devon. Short breaks away in Cornwall and Dorset. None of these will be realised. MyMan is practically housebound. His driving is very limited. Therefore we also return to the idea that we need to consider a move away from our semi- rural life. A move to town or city. But where that will be is another question.

Meanwhile I'll be going off to take some test drives: Honda CRV, Toyota Rav4, Nissan X-Trail QuashQui , and Vauxhall Zafira.

Improving Mental Health

Once again I've started to enjoy all the little things that I used to enjoy. Some of them I had set aside as being too much bother, too noisy, too time consuming or too full of self pity. But I think now that I'm letting myself emerge again I'm beginning to feel a little more content. I read. I listen to music. I sit quietly and think, without feeling guilty that there are chores to be done. I've started a bit more gardening without feeling guilty that the whole garden needs weeding. At least I've done a small patch (ouch those muscles hurt!). I meet friends for coffee regularly and chat about nothing much and share some laughter. I'm glad to say they have stopped asking after MyMan every time for which I'm grateful. I still find it difficult to say 'he's no better' without trying to put a positive gloss on it. I'm still inclined to feel a little 'left out' when I'm not invited along to 'couples' events. So I'll search out a new group to join where I can be just 'me'. Where no one knows MyMan and wont be asking after the latest health bulletin. Something that will stretch me mentally. Maybe a photography club or a creative writing course. I've a few weeks yet to make a decision. I allow myself to feel and release anger. And grief. I've had so many bereavements over the last 5 years and not properly recovered. So many losses. I allow myself to cry, to weep and wail. Better than to keep it bottled up. To carry on coping. I am learning to cope again. And I am in the middle of inventing a new me.

Depression Widow

I really must get out more. But trouble is I'm a bit like a widow. But without the dead spouse. I'm not a golfing widow, I'm a depression widow. It's a bit awkward to fit me into the social sphere. I'm not a widow and unattached. I'm married but my husband rarely goes out or socialises. He is only happy at home and he's rarely happy there. Everyone asks after him and I'm now at a loss as to what to answer. He is seen out and about on occasions. After all there are medical appointments he has to attend. Otherwise I think people would think that I'd murdered him; buried his body in the garden and just carry on claiming his disability pension. I don't murder him as I worry I wouldn't get away with it. In which case I still wouldn't be free. In some ways widowhood would be easier. The end product - if I can call it that - would mean that I'd have to get used to it and move on. As it is we are both trapped and unhappy. One way or another Depression has us both in its grip. Like a widow I am going through the gamut of emotions [I did denial first] now I'm working through loss, anger, grief etc.