some things....

some things are better left to the professionals. take ect, for instance.

wait. let me back up a bit.

you may recall my fear of being chased by cows. let's say it's more a fear of being chased, tripped, and squashed by cows. anyhow.

i wanted to borrow frances' bicycle last monday, and the shortest route is across the field. i hopped the fence and was half way across the grass when i spotted the cows, all clumped together by the fence at the far end of the field. by clumped together of course i mean they had put their heads together and were plotting the best way to chase me and then sit on me.

i decided my best option was to take a detour along top end of the field as this would put me right next to my sister's kitchen door. only thing between me and the kitchen door? an electrified cow fence.

so picture it. me, face-down in the grass, trying to wiggle under the fence. now the grass turned out to be wetter than it looked so i - wait for it - started to move away from the grass.

that's when the cow fence met my ass. zap! zap, zap, zap!

i know it's only a small voltage, but i have to tell you it hurt like a mo*therf*cker. 5 hours later my teeth were still ringing.

fast forward to thursday last week, where you'd find me in a full-scale meltdown, feeling so bad that to keep myself safe i had to go back to the psych ward for a little help. for the past 72 hours i've had the same conversation with a nurse, three doctors, and my therapist. they all wanted to know: "did anything out of the ordinary happen over the course of the week to trigger you?"

i honestly couldn't think of a thing. but then i remembered the incident with the electrified fence.

and that's when i decided: some procedures are best left to the professionals.

oh yeah, and next time i'm taking the road.

a sort of explanation

i have been writing a fair bit here about my journey out of depression, and maybe you are wondering why.

on a very basic level, writing here is a form of self-preservation. when i first posted on this subject, i really just wanted support. i knew that my brain was playing tricks on me, but as hard as i tried, i couldn't think my way out of it. the more i thought things over, the worse i felt. it was like slowly drowning in quicksand. it took your kind words and emails to help me reconnect with the world.

i also write because, well, it's what i do. this blog has always been about my life, and the funny or sad things that i see around me. these experiences of the irish mental health system will go in the screenplay one day, to be sure!

i also want to challenge the shame and stigma that go along with mental illness. a recent report from the UK says 1 in 8 people would not want to live next door to someone with a mental illness. that's just ignorance, or maybe fear. i dunno. 2 weeks ago i even emailed my story (so far) to TodayFM the morning they were talking about the samaritans. yes, ray darcy read my email over the airwaves-- "here we have catherine from cork..." i tell you that, just so you know it's hard to hang on to any embarrassment when the story of your mental breakdown and recovery is read over the national airwaves.

finally, i write so that anyone who might also be experiencing depression or suicidal thoughts will see that help is out there, and while it might be a scary step, it's really not so hard. when i started to get sick i remembered marsha's speech at joe's memorial service - i remember she stood at the front of the community room at the jefferson market library and told us if were feeling low to go and get help. i don't remember her exact words, but it was something along the lines of not suffering alone.

here are a few links:

• Why Suicide is Not a Good Idea
• How to talk to your doctor about depression
• Loneliness
  
• PsychEducation (mood disorders, borderline and bipolar)
• Dan Fisher's Story
• Recovery and the Conspiracy of Hope
• PsychCentral
• SuicideForum (SF) (online forum, peer support)
  
• How to Think Ahead (wikiHow)]
• HSE suicide helpline: 1800 742745 (6pm to 10pm)