All the small things

This advent, I pledged to post something positive each day in a bid to try and cope with the sadness we feel as we approach George’s due date. In fact, I’ve been trying to hunt for happy moments for a while as a way to help me cope with a long and dark depression. Whilst I haven’t posted here for a couple of days, you can still see my happy moments on my Facebook or Instagram pages. Today what I have to say feels more significant so I thought I would post it here.


I started this blog  after losing George as I was aware that my mental health had suffered as a result and I knew that talking would help me to process the emotion and hopefully prevent a severe depressive episode. Whilst this blog has helped in so many ways, unfortunately my mental health started to spiral out of control after other stressful factors and 3 further miscarriages. Many times I’ve written about recovery and the things I have done to get better. But truth be told, many times the effects of my positive actions have been fleeting and I’ve been left feeling deflated.


But thanks to my stubborn desire to be well, I have persevered. I’ve found ways to reduce the anxiety, to increase calm, peace and relaxation. I’ve walked, talked, seen friends, stayed at home, eaten, watched movies, read … I’ve done basically anything I could that I thought would help me get through each moment without feeling so awful. The effort has been great. I’ve often felt the fruits of my labour have been meagre at best as I awoke, yet again, to pain in my chest and my own personal storm of doom clouding my thoughts. But who can live in that much pain? I know the mental torment was too much for me to bear so I kept trying and trying to find ways to feel brighter.


And in each day, I have found a glimpse of happiness. A moment of pleasure. A real smile. Laughter. From a fleeting moment of calm. Those moments have grown into minutes and at times, hours. Sometimes the weight of my thoughts lifts for long enough for me to forget. Those tiny moments that I paid heavily for, have gradually become longer stretches of time. Some of those moments join together and I move from one happy moment to the next without pausing to sob, lie down, hide or shrink in my black hole.


I am by no means at the end of this journey. Each day the tears shudder out of me as my chest heaves and I gulp down air desperate for breath. Often, I wake to a tight chest or the anxious feeling returns throughout the day. Sometimes the thought that this is all too much flickers through my conscious mind and I have to banish the thought with the reminder that the effort is worth it. I am not there yet.


But, for those of you at the bottom of your black pit, here is some hope:

  1. Sometimes I feel happy when I wake up.
  2. Now that I can cry, I have a way to help ease the chest pain.
  3. This week I put makeup on each time I left the house and enjoyed deep cleaning a few rooms. My motivation and self worth must be improving.
  4. At times, my smile and laughter isn’t fake.
  5. Despite it still being hard, I feel like I can cope.

So just remember, the sun may only shine briefly today, but it won’t be winter forever. Your hard work to get better is paying off even f you can’t perceive the small changes in yourself. Keep going. The small things add up.



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