I have four pages of scattered disjointed writing in my “latest blog” file in word.
It is all about my struggle with depression over the last few months.
I realised today when I sat down to start writing again properly that none of that was ever finalised and put into this blog.
So for all the people out there with depression, and for those who love people with depression; these posts are for you.
As the week progresses, more posts will go up, and they will be numbered, from earliest (furthest in the past) to most recent to make it easier to keep track.
I hope that they help you see light and hope, and possibility. Because even if it can’t be seen now, it is there, and you WILL find it. You just have to stick it out today. Tomorrow will come.
My depression has been hideous this year, so I went to the doctor today.
When the doctor asked me if I had been having suicidal thoughts I just looked at her and said “I can’t be bothered.”
That shocked me.
As soon as the words were out of my mouth I started back and stared at her.
“I think I need help, I can’t keep fighting this alone.” I said, and burst into (what was probably the 10th lot that day) tears.
I had expected her to question why I hadn’t been exercising, getting sun, getting sleep, eating well, keeping up with socialisation etc etc etc.
When I raised it (hyperventilating as I listed the ways I had let myself down) she stopped me.
“If you haven’t been doing it, there is a reason; and you won’t start now you are this far along.”
Up until that point I felt like I was drowning. The cold water was making me shake and panic. I couldn’t breathe.
I was terrified.
I was so frightened that if I let go of tightly clutching myself and raised my hand above my head that I would sink completely under the water, and no one would ever find me.
The doctor’s sympathetic eyes and reassurance that I could do this made me realise that I could get help. A weight lifted off my shoulders. I wasn’t a failure. One winter of struggling in nearly TEN YEARS of maintaining a positive mental health with S.A.D. was a fucking victory.
And there are drugs, and professionals, and loving people just waiting for me to signal that they can step in and help.
It’s ok to raise my hand.