A few months ago I tried to come off my antidepressants. I had full support from my doctor, my husband and myself. Unfortunately things didn’t go to plan and I struggled to cope with the feelings that arose from withdrawal. I hesitated for a short time and then started retaking my drugs.
How glad I did.
Fast forward to today.
My dad died three weeks ago. Suddenly. Unexpected. Unwanted.
Grief is as heavy as depression was. Heavier in some ways. The first and last thing I think about every day. Feel surrounded by a bubble not really in the real world. Don’t want to move most days. Don’t want to parent. Some days I want to cry. Some days I can’t cry. Numb. Body feels heavy. Crawling through that thick fog again.
The difference is that this time there are others with me. Under the grief. Some are running ahead finding a way out of the fog. Some are giving me food. Some are quite literally holding me up so I can move forward. Sometimes they leave me to rest. Sometimes they carry me onwards. I don’t feel alone.
I wasn’t ready for this time. I wasn’t ready to lose one of my parents. Half of me. The one I have struggled with the most but the one who I have felt closer to in the last year than the rest of my 39 years. I think I’ve been trying to save him. Bring him physically and mentally closer to me. And he was getting there. He had battled his own mental health. He was winning. His mind getting stronger each day. Little did we know that his body was growing weak, and 3 weeks ago his heart stopped working. Just stopped. And he took his last breath – on the streets of the town he loved – and he died.
So ironic in some respects. He died of natural causes after battling his own depression for so long. It sounds like one of his bad jokes. He told the worst ones I’ve ever heard. Made his life lighter and brighter. Made me cringe and shake my head.
I could write forever about my dad. And my grief. And I will continue to. This blog was originally about my depression but appropriately it’s now about my dad who battled so hard with his.
He has gone. But he will never be forgotten. He lives on in me.