Counting the moments: a strategy for coping with depression.

Hiya pals. Thank you so much for all your love and support since I wrote about this crappy wave of depression that I've got going on at the mo. I very much appreciate your kindness and understanding.
I know it's something that loads of us have experienced at one time or another. I totally love that my lack of filter and great big flapping gob might provide a weeny bit of comfort to people who are going through something similar. I'd like to say that I was being  all shades of altruistic and that I was trying to be helpful when I wrote. But obviously I was only thinking about myself. Me me me me me.  I know that by having a good ol' root through my own thoughts, feelings and experiences, and by writing them down I can get a firmer grip of what's kicking off in my head. And by identifying this confusing chocolate box of emotions and organising them into a narrative, it helps me feel ever so slightly more in control, which calms me down. I dunno if that makes any sense to you...  If I could use art to express myself I would. I have enormous enthusiasm for the meditative activity of drawing, painting and sculpture, but sadly I’m totally devoid of any skill or talent.

Coping with a big event when you're not really up for it.

Any road. I thought I'd share a strategy that I'm having a go at. It might be useful to you, it might be a load of bollocks. It's helping me a bit at the mo and it's how I coped with a big event I had to participate in  yesterday.  
I completed my Open University degree in English in 2020, but because of the pandemic there weren't any graduation ceremonies until this year. To be honest I couldn't really be arsed doing the whole cap n gown palaver even before my current dose of the glums arrived. I felt like the the moment had passed. But, my husband, my biggest supporter, was keen that we should have a proper day of celebration. As the Open University is all over the place there's a choice of ceremony locations. They didn't have one in Nottingham but there was a Brighton option. Seeing as our son lives there we thought it'd be a good opportunity to see him and to acknowledge that Brighton is his new home, by having an important family day there. Obviously all of this was planned before I got a bit rough in the brain.
If it was a couple of weeks ago, I'd just have had to cancel as I was feeling so hopeless, but now I'm being more proactive in getting better, things seem a little bit more manageable. However, I know I'm not on top form. So I made a plan to have as nice a time as possible. Here it is:

Trying a new strategy

It's all about *moments* of joy, fun, laughter, delight. It's not about the false expectation of being in a constant emotional state of happiness.
So yesterday my aim was to grab the *moments* and to accumulate them, protect them, hoard them and keep them as fixed mini-events in my mind. That way it wouldn't matter if for 90% of the day I felt overwhelmed or irritable or fuzzy-headed or weepy. The moments of loveliness would remain the headlines.

And it worked. There were a few hiccups with cancelled trains, a sweaty gallop across London to find another route, then the weather turning from pleasantly warm to a face-slappingly cold snow storm, all of which was a bit anxiety inducing. But they were only hiccups, they didn't dominate the day .

Moments of joy

• What I remember is my husband waiting for me at the station in Brighton (he'd driven down a couple of days earlier) and feeling safe and supported when he held my hand as I plodded through the bitingly cold streets, sweating and freezing simultaneously, a specialist skill of the peri-menopausal middle aged lady.
• My son and I revelling in being daft together at the pre-ceremony photos and laughing at our own tireless search for the ridiculous in almost all situations, regardless of  how appropriate or formal it might be.
• Feeling excited about the star printed next to my name in the brochure to show I'd got a First Class degree (which I'm still stunned about - when I received the results back in 2020 I assumed it was an admin error and called the university helpline).
• Feeling loved when my husband and son cheered when I went on stage.
• Enjoying the amazing flavour-hit of the cheese-stuffed, crispy fried olives we ate in the restaurant afterwards. I've never tasted them before and they were bloody gorgeous.
• I felt proud when my son gave me a can of cold lemonade from his fridge for the journey home. Proud and reassured that he's settled and contented in his new grown-up life.
• Feeling grateful that my husband was happy for me to snooze as he drove the 4 hour journey back to Nottingham.
• And finally, feeling relieved when we got home and the dogs were completely fine. Betty and Walter hardly ever have a day on their own and even though our brilliant dog walker had taken them out for two hour-long walks and gave them their dinner, I was still reluctant to leave them. To be honest I'm not even sure they'd noticed we'd gone.

Going guilt free

I was nervous that the day of celebration might feel a bit performative if I wasn't feeling 100% engaged and that a potential lack of authneticity might make me feel worse, potentially knocking me further down. But today I feel better than I have in a couple of months. I certainly don't feel like I've been short changed by the experience or guilty because I wasn't in a constant stare of celebratory giddiness. There were some wonderful moments that are locked in my memory. And that's what I will celebrate.