Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Depression Awareness - Recklessness

Hi Goddesses

I want to start today by thanking all of you who have commented on previous posts or messaged me about them. It's true - we are NOT alone, although it very often does feel that way.

Today's post looks at a slightly different side of depression - recklessness.   I am quite a wilful person, but in my worst moments, I have no heed for consequences.   I am sure that if it weren't for Beth, I would do some very stupid things indeed in the search for oblivion or at least relief.

Today's nails depict some of my "addictions" and temptations - the things that I overdo to prove to myself that I exist.   There is no plate of food too large, no shop of polishes too extensive, no cocktail too strong for the relief I need, but when I feel low, and unloved, and full of self-loathing, THIS is what I persuade myself I need.

The base is Butter London Dosh, a lovely mushy pea green with hints of gold.   I'm going to run you through the stamps 1 by 1 -
* thumb - kitchen / food - BM-308
* index - sale tickets - Cheeky CH55
* middle - I love Nail Polish - Cheeky CH40
* ring - shopping - Cheeky CH54
* pinkie - cocktails Cheeky CH36

It's as if Cheeky knew I would need to do this mani lol!

It's hard to describe the mood that takes hold of me in moments like this.  It shares some things in common with the "thousand yard stare" state - certainly, not everything registers, or penetrates or triggers a response.

It's usually late in the evening, when I wish I could snuggle into the arms of the elusive man who would understand me, that I seek to fill this ache and need with material crap.   Let's face it, no number of nail polishes makes me a better or a more loved person, but the buying of them makes me feel justified in my existence, and worse, deserving of them (when actually the reckless purchasing should make me undeserving).

Something about acquiring polishes (and it used to be handbags, jewellery, stationery) makes me feel loved - stupid, but true.   It's as if I'm trying to buy my own love of myself.  And something about eating indecent amounts of food makes me feel comforted, and insulated from the threats and dementors of the world.  

Of course, it's all bullshit, and nothing really helps ... nothing except the drugs ..... and a daughter called Beth.

I'll conclude the series in a couple of days - in the meantime, please please please remember, you are NOT alone xx :)

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