It had to happen at some point. The depression. So far, I had avoided it and stayed strong and positive. After the initial elation of Friday and being able to do a few things like walks and so on, here I was on Saturday feeling trapped in my useless body and not able to do the things I enjoy.
The worst thing was that I didn't want to tell anyone. Weekends are for fun, unfortuately most of my friends work and then drink. They are not for spending time with a newly deformed friend who can only talk about hysterectomies and vaginas as that's the only thing on her mind.
Don't get me wrong. I didn't hide under the duvet crying. I did things like go shopping for more drawstring trousers and pirate DVDs. I had a highly enjoyable Skype conversation with a really good friend who had also just had surgery. I wrote and I chilled. Zoe came to visit and we watched 'The King's Speech'. I couldn't shake my mood and my feeling off. I felt so empty.
There were many factors contributing to this black hole. The usual feeling of neediness and how I hated it. My own perception that I have asked far too much of others and am beginning to take the piss. Would people start forgetting about the operation? Can I ask for more support? When does it stop?
Other things were preying on my mind. Will I enjoy sex again? Have I denied that I never wanted kids? And lest we forget, the looming spectre of work was coming closer and closer and how frighteningly indifferent I was to it all.
I really tried to fight it. I cried a lot privately and downplayed it to others. I compiled yet another worry list, emailed it to Roberto (he asked) and then felt guilty that such things were trivial and surely he had better things to do. Besides, I'm uncomfortable with opening my heart to people. I wanted to be brave and strong. I wanted to be admired for my fortitude and not be the total crying mess I was. What I certainly didn't want was 'cheer up Liz'. I couldn't and more to the point, I didn't want to.
During that time, I had visitors but it was proving to be more of a strain with my mask. It was getting harder and harder. Also, the two nurses stopped coming. I loved my new idenpendence to cook and do more on my own. I also appreciated the time to cry too. The more upset I got, the greater the walls were and so the vicious circle began.
I reached a breaking point sometime on Tuesday. It was unbearable. I caught Roberto on Skype and by chance he was in my neighbourhood. He knew that all was not well and for once and perhaps for the first time in my life, I messaged and said 'I need a hug'.
He helped a lot and for that hour, I was calmer. Though, I did spend most of my time apologising profusely for crying and hating the way I was. Such things are temporary and it brought it home to me that friends are really important. My friends have been wonderful but within limits of not only time but their expertise. None of them are doctors so I can't expect them to help with the physical side so why I was expecting their support for the mental side.
I made a decision. I can't get through this and these rather dark feelings alone. I need to seek professional help.
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