I was having an early hours chat with a good friend Henrietta about my lack of blogging over the past couple of months and she suggested I take a look at a couple of regularly run blogging events that might get me back into the swing of things. A great idea as the A-Z Challenge did wonders for my creativity and I felt great (up to a point).
One of the events is the “1000 Voices Speak for Compassion” blog event that’s run on the 20th of every month. So, nothing like giving myself a challenge here. Seeing as I tend to rabbit on I’ll just link to the blog’s about page and you can read their much more eloquent description of what they do and why. 1000 Speak for Compassion
So, here I sat thinking about this months topic of Compassion and it struck me that a lot of people assume the default nature of compassion is “to others” but recently, for me, I have needed to have heaped tablespoons of the stuff for myself. It is no secret for readers of this blog to know that I deal with Mental Health issues, and whilst I don’t discuss them often they are an issue and my sitting here at 5.30 in the morning is testament to the fact that they are still kicking my butt in some way.
The past couple of Christmases have started a period of pretty serious depression for me that has lasted a protracted period and it hasn’t been nice for my family or me. It hasn’t been helpful and I haven’t had a great deal of help. Mostly because I didn’t really know what to do to help myself, which is stupid as I have been through enough groups and sessions to know pretty much every trick in the book. However the fact was, I was getting into an annual cyclical depression and I wanted it to stop before it became too far ingrained in my life.
Keep time under a firm grip and don’t let go until you are ready!
I arranged to see my GP and from there I found myself a few weeks later with an appointment to start Therapy. For the first time in over ten years of diagnosed Mental Health issues, I was to have proper 1 to 1 face to face Therapy with a proper Therapist.
My original intention was to deal with the depression, but as the first appointment grew closer other issues in my life changed the way I saw what was to come.
My first session of Therapy was like the great unburdening of all time. I just sat there for 50 minutes at spewed out so much I don’t think the Therapist knew with what or where to start. The allotted time flew by, but after I got out of the room my soul felt ten times lighter than it did when I went in. It was like I had sat there and stroked a kitten for 50 minutes and just listened to it purring. All was good with the world. The worst coffee would have tasted like amber nectar at that moment.
Each week (with the exception of one) was the same. After the session I felt so much better. I was doing something for myself that made a difference and would continue to make a difference in the future. That feeling of well-being that was growing in myself, I know now and understand, was a sense of compassion for myself. It’s a fancy term for self-love, which many self-help gurus would tell you is the corner-stone and most important part of good mental health.
Now that my course of treatment is over and that I am again out in the world on my own and feeling my way through day-to-day life, I find myself just gingerly trying apply little ideas that spoke about in the sessions and hoping that they stick, and if not then just rolling back and trying something else without getting hurt too much. It’s slow progress, and when you are a carer to others, you can’t be to slow and sensitive about life.
Time isn’t always on our side, it often gets away from us and we can be left behind. Don’t let that happen. Keep time under a firm grip and don’t let go until you are ready!
Until Next Time…