Awaiting Repair

I don't know what I'm about to write, or why, but I've been inspired, by a meme. That's right. A meme has inspired me. The future is now kids.

This one, to be exact: 

I've been trying to find a way to explain what exactly has made the past 6-8 months so difficult for me, and this here piece of humourous imagery has hit the nail on the head. Not only in terms of mental illness, (which is obviously totally relevant) but other shit life circumstances too.

As many of you know from my years of droning on about depression and anxiety, (for those of you who are new, and fancy reading old posts, I'm sorry because they're long and probably embarrassing now) the inside of my head being a mess is something I've come to accept, but that in combination with the outside of my head being a mess too has made that much harder to deal with. Life has been kicking me in the balls, in a lot of different ways. I feel like all I ever seem to write about are the ways in which I struggle, and I suppose I'd like to stop that, but I try to write from an honest place, and that's where I've been. I always think things have been at their worst, and then worse comes. I suppose this is how life goes.

I've had to put quite a big pause on my life. For a minute I hated the idea. I hated looking like I'd given up, that I'm 26 years old and still fucking about with no real career, but I realised those worries were more about other people than me. If I'd have kept pretending I was handling everything, that would've been much worse. So here I am, starting over again a little bit, for a little while. 

Anyway, it's meant that anytime I've met new people it has been strange and difficult: like I can't fully introduce myself, because this isn't myself. The person I see myself as, someone confident, capable and driven, isn't always exactly who I've been able to be. It feels like I want to explain to every new person I meet, that I'm not functioning at my best. Like I should be wearing a sign that says "Awaiting Repair, Sorry For Any Inconvenience". (I'm going to suggest this as NHS treatment when I'm a mental health nurse.)

It's been lovely to discover, that despite all of this, I've still managed to make new friends. Real ones. Who seem to have gotten me anyway. That's been about the best thing that could have happened actually.

For the majority of the past 8 months (ish) it's taken most of my energy just to keep up appearances, any other capability and/or enthusiasm has been a bonus. I have to be sort of proud of myself for what I've achieved despite how I've felt under the surface. I've been closer than ever to throwing in the functioning-member-of-society towel, but I've just about held onto the corners of it.

The fact that I'm writing, even if its a bit vague, means that things are much improved. So that's nice.

I know I'm not the first or the only one who's had a shit time, and I will not be the last. I also know, that I am actually quite lucky, and that as far as shitty times go, it could be much worse. It could always be worse.

 So I extend a wee bit of cheesy admiration to anyone who is managing to not only keep living, but keep accomplishing, even a little, when things are going very badly. Those who are being continuously kicked in the balls by life, but keep smiling. Those awaiting repair too. You're not alone. I see you. You're doing good.

Depressed and okay.

Hello. I have depression. 

Most of you already know that. It's no secret. For those of you who didn't, don't be afraid, saying all of this is a good thing. It helps, everyone, I believe.

I've accepted my illness, I've accepted that it blurs the lines between who I am and the ways in which I struggle. I've accepted that I'm going to have to live my life in a way that continually tries to cope with this, and that that's okay. What I'm finding hard to accept is how I'm still coming across people who refuse to see past the fact that on the surface I am a confident, happy person who enjoys life, and yet can also have depression; People that haven't experienced a mental illness and therefore refuse to believe that it can be anywhere near as bad as I (and many others) describe it to be. 

I'm taking some time off right now: I've finally accepted that I need it to recover, that I should listen to the advice that I would give another person. Continuing on with the theme of visibility from my last post, I feel I have to expand on a much more personal level. Again, this is for me, but also anyone else who needs it.

I feel that it needs to be made clear that yes, I'm a person who smiles and laughs and acts like a fool. I'm a person who spends hours (ridiculous I know) on her make up. I'm a person who can be the life and soul of the party. A person who shows enthusiasm. A person who shows love. Who can get up on stage and perform, who can be really motivated and productive, who can be creative, expressive.
But none of that takes away the fact that I'm also a person whose thoughts sometimes race around at a pace I can't keep up with, that can't always fully focus on a conversation because her brain is intent on concerning her with what the other person must be thinking. A person who often feels like they're walking around in a fog. A person who sometimes experiences stress in an inappropriately impactful way. That really struggles to be in a room where there's a lot of noise. That struggles to retain information because her brain is intent on worrying about trivial things that usually amount to nothing instead. That I'm a person whose mood sometimes goes from content to intensely irritable then to tearful in an hour. The fact that sometimes I have this ball of dread in my stomach, tingling in my legs, beads of sweat dripping down my back (nice) for no reason. That sometimes my brain tells me I'm useless, that life is hopeless and I try so hard to fight with these thoughts because I know it isn't true. That sometimes I don't know what to say or how to express anything. That being in a group of (especially new) people turns me into a quiet little weirdo because my brain keeps telling me they won't like me, even though I know that's not true either. That I want to say "sorry, I know I'm coming across as weird, quiet, apathetic, a bit useless, I just have depression." 

That all of this is only sometimes. That it's okay for me to not be okay. That it's okay for me to be both depressed and okay.

That I struggle almost every day on the inside. That I have no control over this, only coping methods. That probably 90% of these struggles are invisible.

Depression is much more than "sadness". Depression is also sometimes much less than lying on a heap on the floor. No matter whether it affects my life in a big or a small way that day, it's there.

It's okay not to understand, in fact in a way it's great: I'm so glad that you haven't had to feel this, but that doesn't mean it isn't valid for me, and every other person who lives with an invisible illness. You can never fully know what another person has gone through. Never forget that. Never take that away from anyone. Respect their experience, ask them about it, listen to what they need, be there, support them. That's all.

I've thought a lot about what "recovery" actually means for me, and what I intend to spend my time off doing in order to return to things feeling better. I came to the decision that during this time of recovery I want to focus my life around four themes: I want to do things that make me feel happy, feel hopeful, feel good about myself and that address my problems. Even better if I can cover all four themes at once. I'm going to try the best that I can, each day at a time to do that. Wish me luck.

I'm sorry if that was rant-y, and non-cohesive but I published the words as they came out and I'm okay with it.

Let's talk about Depression. (Don't be afraid.)

I began writing this a few months ago, but didn't feel quite ready to post it until now.

I've wanted to write about this for a long time, but I think it always felt too personal before. However, my feelings have changed, and although it is still deeply personal, I'm no longer ashamed, and feel like sharing would be a positive step, for the greater good an' all that.

(It is World Mental Health Day today, so I can't think of a better time to finally talk about this.)

It's strange how I feel like I've been "in the closet" in some way. I'm sure many people who have suffered from any form of Mental Illness can relate to this. 

Telling someone you have the flu, or a broken arm, has a pretty standard sympathetic response. They can physically see that you are suffering. Telling someone you have depression, is a lot more difficult. It's often met with awkwardness. Avoidance. No one knows the right thing to say, to ask. Simply through lack of understanding. Fear of what they don't know. Fear of saying the wrong thing. 

It's not deemed acceptable to say "I need to stay home today, my brain feels ill." 

 I was 18, I'd gone through huge changes, in a very short space of time, with little time to take it all in. Everything that I thought made me who I was: my town, my house, my friends, my family. All of it changed. (That's the short story anyway.) I lost my identity completely, which is a difficult thing to understand unless it has happened to you.

Depression (and anxiety) seemed to slowly creep over me. It was like having a bag to carry, then another bag, then another, until I was just completely overwhelmed by luggage.

I'd wake up feeling like I'd just had a huge argument. Angry, anxious, upset, tired, like anything could send me over the edge. It was a black cloud that seemed to hang over me and everything that I did. I was still me, getting on with everything as normal, but with my thoughts and feelings clouded by this horrible dread and anxiety. I forgot who I was underneath it.

I distinctly remember losing the ability to look forward to anything. Nothing sparked my interest, or seemed worth it really. Minor tasks felt like mountains. There was an overwhelming sense of pointlessness to my entire being. I can remember my lowest point quite clearly. I can remember thinking "What is the point of me continuing to live? No one cares, I don't even care." Luckily, it didn't go any further than that thought. 

When I think of that person now, having those thoughts, my heart breaks; No one deserves to feel that they or their life are worth nothing. 

Visiting the doctor, and saying the word Depression out loud, was pretty traumatic. I was met by, more or less, apathy. I was prescribed antidepressants and told to seek a counsellor at college.

The antidepressants helped to stabilise me, which was what I needed at first, but after a certain point, I felt like they kept me too stable, and not able to be creative or expressive.
The counsellor basically sat in silence, whilst I skimmed over the details of my life, and for a while I felt like it was achieving nothing. My "epiphany" came one day, as I walked out of one of the sessions. I'd spent the last hour rambling, and suddenly the root of the problem really hit me. I went home and cried and cried, but it felt like relief more than anything. It may sound ridiculous, but in simple terms, I realised that I had to face the fact that everything had changed.
I truly made sense of what made me feel so awful in the first place, and then started to let it go. I stopped being in denial about my life, who I was, and accepted the changes. I had to learn to accept that things were never going to be the same, and adapt. It took a really long time.

I also have to mention that music, and musical theatre specifically, played a huge part, and still does, in helping me feel better. Music makes me feel that wee bit more alive. 
This song seemed to describe my feelings so accurately at that time, and still makes everything better. (I actually almost cried listening to it just now.) (I know, it's a bit cheesy. I don't care.)
Again, it may sound ridiculous, but the honest truth is that I find real solace in musical theatre. The musical RENT, and it's message, played a huge part in making me look at things differently, to see myself, and my life in a different light. 

I have to add admiration and appreciation to Jake, as without him, I'm not sure what would have happened. I don't really have the words to explain what he tolerated, and how he was there, but I will never forget.

While I feel like someone who is mostly mentally healthy now, I recognise that like with many illnesses, I still live with it and probably always will. 
I go through periods of feeling fabulous, confident and happy. Then others that are a real struggle. It's like I'm more vulnerable to big changes, or stress. It's a battle, but I know how to fight it now. I'm able to recognise that it is an illness, just like any other, and not who I am. 
I try never to let myself obsess over things in the way that I used to. I try not to let what other people think of me, affect me too much. I have to remind myself of what's actually important. It definitely opens your eyes, and makes you thankful for the small things.
Quite honestly, a part of me feels like it was a part of my life that had to happen, in order to make me realise how strong I actually am.

The reason I wanted to write this was because, I feel like if I'd have known how common depression was at the time, I would have felt better. If I'd have known that I wasn't weak, or abnormal, if my peers were discussing depression, if the doctor had shown some empathy, then maybe it would have been easier. If someone had told me "This isn't your fault" a lot sooner, it would have made all the difference.
I feel like it's my job, everyone's job, to talk about this. To be open. To not be ashamed. Which is why I am literally trying to make it my job. (I'm studying Mental Health Nursing.)

Depression is not always easily visible like you might think. 
I'm pretty certain that the only people that have had any clue about this, have been the people I have actively told. It's easy to hide. It's secretive. That's the worst thing about it. It doesn't get taken as seriously as a physical illness because it can't be seen. Some could argue that in a way that makes it worse than physical illness, because it pollutes the very person that you are, the brain, the thing that ultimately makes you, You. 

If you, (or someone you know) is suffering, please don't feel that you are alone. There will be people around you every day who have been affected by this. 
You aren't weak, or pathetic, or worthless. You don't deserve to feel that. This isn't your fault. Give yourself credit for the little steps that you are able to take, and give yourself credit for recognising that you need help, because that will make you feel more in control.
Also, talk to me. I'm no expert on this and the things that helped me, might do nothing for you, but I at least can understand and am willing to listen.
I hope that this can help anyone, in any small way.

If you have read all of this, thank you. Truly. I know it seems self-indulgent, but I felt like it had to come out. It took a lot of tears and anxiety to write this, and even more to press "Publish", but I feel better.