Lex wrote on Monday about how wit and humour can get us through the dark times. Many of the commenters mentioned the fact that, when depressed, their sense of humour deserts them.

That got me thinking. When I was an image consultant I used to write a weekly blog. It went out on a Friday, and I would spend a large part of Thursday evening writing it. It was always light-hearted. I used to go through all the new styles of fashion and gently poke fun at them. I used to find appropriate and funny images from royalty free photo sites. I used to love writing those blogs. I remember one I wrote, entitled “The Joy of Pants,” This was about choosing the right underwear. I said that the right underwear should feel like being embraced by Hugh Jackman, not an anaconda!

I’ve rarely written a light-hearted blog for Moodscope, perhaps never. I don’t know why because, as Lex says, a sense of humour can get us through the bad times. It can certainly deflect well meaning but uncomfortable questions by people we don’t want to talk to about our depression. When people ask, “How are you?” It’s easy to turn them away with a joke, because “I’m fine,” raises too many red flags for many. I can’t joke though. I just say, “I’m very well, thank you.” Or my favourite: “All the better for seeing you. But tell me, how are you?”

Another way I’ve lost my identity is in the clothes I wear. Now I’m not working (I don’t count my supermarket job), I have no need for all the beautiful clothes and shoes I have in my wardrobe. At the moment, I can’t even get into most of them, as I have still not lost the steroid weight. To be honest, I haven’t even tried, because, what’s the point? I live in jeans and hoodies now. For the supermarket job, I need back trousers and shoes. I had to go out and buy these specially, as I didn’t own any black. I bought expensive shoes on the basis, that, if you’re going to be on your feet for any length of time, you need to have comfortable shoes. I have no idea how I used to stand in heels all day.

I’m firmly of the opinion that one can only go forward and never back. It’s likely I will never need those lovely clothes again, although I can’t bear to get rid of them just yet. I will never again need eighteen jackets, though I love them all. And my forty pairs of shoes – when will I wear those again?

I feel like a shadow of my former self. But, one can never go back, so it’s time to create a new identity. Perhaps I should start wearing tee-shirts with light-hearted sayings on them.

Do you feel you have an identity you express in what you wear or in your humour. If you have – or even if you have not – please share.

Mary

A Moodscope member