The good thing with having nervous breakdown’s, is that you can stay in bed, doing nothing, but yet still be the centre of everybody’s attention. Everything fell apart, like this giant domino game that starts breaking down, piece by piece, by a little breath of air. I finally reached the part when my body said NO. It just gave up.
I’m now recovering, trying to understand what I’m doing at all. And for the first time in years I’m having time to just think. Lying in bed doing nothing else, not having internet access, being far away from school and all the rest, I just lay in bed, and I think. And for the first time in a long while it’s not dark thoughts about “what is the purpose of it all?” it’s more just reflections and trying to go through all the things that happened in the chaos that was the last 6 months. I didn’t have time not even once to pause and think of where I was in the middle of everything. So, breakpoints are good. Reaching the bottom is not so bad after all, it means it will never be any worse that this. The beauty of it is to realise how many people care for you. It makes me realise that caring for other people makes you very vulnerable, love is a fragile thing. When my father called me late yesterday when I had stopped crying and could talk to him, he told me that he already managed to phone all his contacts in Barcelona, and that he had a doctor on standby just in case I’d feel any worse in the next few days. I wonder if I will be able to do the same for him.
What I realise going through this “what-ever-it-is” is that actually a lot of people are feeling bad. I realise an old friend telling me years ago about that she’d been eating this “anti-depressive medicine” just to get through everyday life. And I also remember very fresh the day when I realised that one of my best friends had tried to kill herself several times how fragile it all is, and how easy it is just to give up. But right now, I don’t feel like giving up. I don’t have energy, but I have this idea in my head, the idea that it’s worth wakening up every day. Get up and begin the day. So I think I’ll keep doing that until the day it doesn’t seem worth the trouble.
I’m now recovering, trying to understand what I’m doing at all. And for the first time in years I’m having time to just think. Lying in bed doing nothing else, not having internet access, being far away from school and all the rest, I just lay in bed, and I think. And for the first time in a long while it’s not dark thoughts about “what is the purpose of it all?” it’s more just reflections and trying to go through all the things that happened in the chaos that was the last 6 months. I didn’t have time not even once to pause and think of where I was in the middle of everything. So, breakpoints are good. Reaching the bottom is not so bad after all, it means it will never be any worse that this. The beauty of it is to realise how many people care for you. It makes me realise that caring for other people makes you very vulnerable, love is a fragile thing. When my father called me late yesterday when I had stopped crying and could talk to him, he told me that he already managed to phone all his contacts in Barcelona, and that he had a doctor on standby just in case I’d feel any worse in the next few days. I wonder if I will be able to do the same for him.
What I realise going through this “what-ever-it-is” is that actually a lot of people are feeling bad. I realise an old friend telling me years ago about that she’d been eating this “anti-depressive medicine” just to get through everyday life. And I also remember very fresh the day when I realised that one of my best friends had tried to kill herself several times how fragile it all is, and how easy it is just to give up. But right now, I don’t feel like giving up. I don’t have energy, but I have this idea in my head, the idea that it’s worth wakening up every day. Get up and begin the day. So I think I’ll keep doing that until the day it doesn’t seem worth the trouble.
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