Change happens ever so slightly, you don’t even notice it’s happening, and then, all of a sudden, it happens all at once. Then you wake up one day, and things are noticeably different.

Hey Presto!

Butter Bing, Butter Boom!!

Like magic.

Except crediting it to magic takes away the value of your efforts to get to this point.

No, that change is all you, kid.

I am not the same as I was a week ago. I haven’t blogged in a week, or more maybe. I have never been this depressed before in my life. Hear me out though. Confusingly, or maybe not, confusingly *for me*, I should say, I am the most depressed I have ever been and also I am doing really well. Both can be true at the same time.

I didn’t blog because I thought I had nothing of value to say. I am in this weird space where I have no idea what I am doing, all I know is the next right step for me in the moment. I thought, critically of myself, that nothing significant happened in each of the days that I missed blogging. Now, looking back, with the clear vision of hindsight, I can see how piece by piece, bit by bit, step by step, I was building to this new, unknown space within myself. I was blindly trusting the process, blindly accepting that I didn’t have answers and all of a sudden, I am in this space. An evolution has occurred.

It still feels strange to be here. Kate, you only just got here, mate. Damn, ain’t I a critical being. Hopefully I shed that layer soon enough. All in good time.

My parents arrive tomorrow to visit me. I collect them from the airport bright and early in the morning. I am nervous, and excited to see them. Nervous because I am worried about reverting back to an angry teenager, and potentially hurting them with my presence, my anger, my words, my attitude. I am also excited to see them as I have never been this version of myself before. This is a new way of being for me.

I have been newly acquainted with my sadness and it feels sooo good. It feels like coming home, honestly. When the doctors have told me I have severe depression and anxiety, that doesn’t feel like me. It feels wrong, like it doesn’t quite add up. I have never identified with anxiety and depression. It feels like something that can be fixed or resolved. It feels *around* me, sure. It feels like a big, heavy, fur coat layer around me, protecting me. It doesn’t feel like me though. It feels external. My sadness, which has been showing up strongly since Tuesday, it actually feels like it belongs to me. It is mine. I own it. It feels precious, delicate and oh so special.

I was so incredibly relieved to feel it, if only for a short time before it got protectively covered up again. It actually felt physically painful to experience. It was a lot and I am also grateful for the protective parts of me that know the extent of it, and treat me gently and kindly too. It’s not just my sadness they are protecting. I won’t pretend to know that I know the inner workings of myself or a person that intimately. We are in uncharted waters here, in my experiences. I am meeting myself with curiosity and an open heart. Well, as open as my fragile heart will allow at this stage.

Side note: I was in therapy when this exposure happened. She asked if I needed to move my body to help with the energy and I said usually with ketamine I would nearly always want to do a back bend. Please note: this experience was very similar to experiences I have had on ketamine. This time I was sober and straight. I didn’t get the urge to do the back bend, but did one anyway. My back was so stiff, which is very unlike me for this type of movement. I did it anyway. It was a new way of being in my body. The stiffness, I believe, is something to do with the sadness having shifted in my body. Maybe to expose the sadness, it had to stiffen my back or move to somewhere new in my body, which cause the stiffness. Still working out the puzzle pieces for all of this. But worth mentioning.

I treat my sadness with honour and respect that she rightfully deserves. She is a young child still. She hasn’t been allowed to grow up. She hasn’t been allowed to be processed. Why? Coz she has been buried deep, deep, deep inside of me. Protected by many layers – layers of my mind as well as my body. I am still learning of those layers. To name a few: my dissociating, my rage self, my 100 mile an hour racing thoughts.

It’s nice to check in. I have a lot more to say, but honouring where I am at and where I am not. Right now I need to be in bed.

Have you met your sadness before? What was that like?

Sending you lots of love,

Kate