The Worst thing about….

The worst thing about depression for me is how after 3 years I adapted. I adapted to the unhappiness, loneliness, low self-esteem, suicidal thoughts and the pull to self-harm.  I adapted. I got used to the feelings of depression and deep loathing that it felt like my world had tipped when it eventually disappeared. I became addicted to the self-loathing, so it continued even after the depression had gone. I was happy, but I wasn’t really, it was a lie, a lie to myself, a lie to those around me, whoever spectated my trauma. And even when I didn’t feel like cutting myself because I was feeling either sadness or self-loathing, or I wasn’t feeling anything at all, I still wanted to cut myself because I missed the adrenaline and similarly the euphoria the pain gave me. Even on my happiest days I can have suicidal thoughts or feel the need to self-harm, even when there’s never any reason (just to clarify).

Depression for me was an addiction and anxiety became second nature.
95% of the time I don’t notice, when I’m having an anxiety attack, however on the rare occasion that it is noticeable I leave it to pan out, I let it settle along side me until its had it’s fun, sometimes we even play a game of poker. It’s fun, it really is, that’s the beauty of anxiety. It magnifies every thought and feeling you hold, keeps it hostage and opens the gate for the battalion at most unsuspecting times, leaving a field of shed blood amongst the fields of your mind. As much as I hate to say it, anxiety does often have its benefits: When I’m happy it can be euphoric, I feel the happiness like nothing else, each and every time I feel that great happiness it feels like the first time all over again. It makes me emotional, but a happy emotional. In that moment I learn something new, I learn to be thankful, and forgiving, I learn the beauty of the world that’s before my eyes, and I see new sides to people I’d never thought I’d see. All in the space of my own, and in my own time and that beauty belongs to me, and me only. It captivates me.

I’ve probably said it time and time again but I diagnosed myself with anxiety and depression in year 8; at the time I was 13. That’s the saddest thing about it for me, not just for me anyway. There are thousands of people out there and I’m guessing 50% of these thousands who suffer were diagnosed at a young age and lots even diagnosed before the age of 13. That is no life to live! or CHILDHOOD for crying out loud! That’s what hurts and upsets me the most, I wouldn’t be so heartbroken if I was the only person in the world who suffered, it’s the knowledge that somebody out there is suffering just like me, but only that I can’t help in the slightest. It’s living it all again, the past years in those few small seconds, knowing somebody else is feeling the same and that even though for me it is the past, this person feels it right now in that second.


I just need to write something down, because all I feel now is extreme rage, panic, and hysteria. I’m not well, I’m mentally ill and I say it doesn’t define me but it does. It controls every aspect of my life; my friendships, my relationships with everybody in general, my feelings, my health, my safety. It controls my sleeping patterns, my thinking patterns, my eating patterns, my creativity and literally my intellect. It takes the slightest to trigger me. I saw a picture of a ‘friend’, a friend who I thought I could trust, a friend who defended against one of my best friends and nearly broke it off whilst doing so. I risked Losing all my friends, for them to hate me for this other friend. Now all they Fucking do is ignore me. All they do is walk away from me anytime I come bar them, pretend I don’t exist. It makes me feel so shit inside. So filled with a pure utter rate that I feel like there is physically something inside me boiling my blood and organs, something inside me that made me just want to burst into tears. Something inside me that made me want to cut myself. I’ve been clean for about a month now!!! I’m always going to be mentally ill and it’s so fucking hard. So fucking hard going about my day, every little breath and heartbeat are controlled by my illness. I’ve been depressed and had anxiety since I was 11, suicidal since before then. When does it stop? When do I get a chance to get happy, to live in peace? Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this? Why?

Disconnected: Disastrous? Delirious?

As the title suggests I’ve recently been disconnected, just not in the way I would usually be. Usually, I would be disconnected from the outer world, from happiness and disconnected from my very own personality. This often means I’m disconnected from reality, from creativity and intellect – thus causing me to often say irrational things, think irrational thoughts and do irrational things. For once in my ‘sad little life’; insert a hint of sarcasm; I’m actually disconnected from all things that made me feel like a wreck. I’m disconnected from the usual depression, anxiety, distress, stress even however unpleasantly I’m still not disconnected from ‘Insomnia’. The tables have turned, insomnia this time has been caused by excitement, excitement to watch tv series, excitement to play Sims; insert eye roll; excitement to read and excitement to carry on with the next day’s activities. I do think it feels good.

However, I can sense the signs of impending doom, of all the past events taking over, taking over my mindset, and the clocks turning back – anything just to tip me over the edge. I can feel them, it’s hard to understand what that means, but strangely enough, I can emotionally, physically and mentally “literally” feel ‘it’ trying to take over, and it takes all of my will just to suppress the force of it. I push it to the back of my mind, which only allows it to build up over time. By knowledge of experience I know that due to the events that will take place in September, and the sudden change in the environment my anxiety will take a turn for the worst, and I’ll most likely be back to the start. The holidays have been pretty great so far, but I can’t help but feel lonely. I’ve said before; time and time again, that I have no true friends. Which in essence is true, depending on your definition. Most people have a group of friends they can rely on, a group of friends they can trust, who they are loyal to because likewise, their friends are loyal to them, a group of friends that talk to them outside of school and meet with them…. and others have a tiny group, and even fewer people have that 1 friend, that 1 best friend they can rely on. Ultimately I have none of that, it’s just me and has been since year 8. I had the closest thing to a best friend back when I was 10, sounds childish, it really does… hey I swear I’m still a child at heart, but things seriously got in between us and eventually I moved, snapping the final string bonding us together. Then it happened again I became friends with a girl my first day in year 7, she was my best friend for 2 years. We bonded when I ‘nearly’ got us both killed, when in actual fact I just ran across a road without looking and she followed, which she incidentally calls nearly getting us killed. Things just got in the way, my other friends, and we honestly just brought the worst out in each other, from experience two likes repel, and we were just too similar. Funnily enough, I also had another best friend during year 7 and I actually think we became friends the same day too, it also didn’t work out, it could have been that we were too much alike but I also believe that the opposition and dislike that everybody held for me probably persuaded him away, I even remember sitting at a table in the cafeteria and somebody interrogating him as to why he was sat near me, and another time him the person that interrogated him (also his best friend presumably ) also invited me to walk home with them due to me living near ‘my friends’ house, I held severe distrust at that proposition and assumed they were just going to run off and leave to figure the way out home by myself and declined.

Ironically these two best friends dated at one point or had some unspoken agreement between them that nobody knew about until one day he told me and I remembered her telling me to tell him she said yes, which I suspect was him asking her out. Undeniably it is all just speculation on my behalf but they both admitted it to me and later denied it.

It just goes to show I’m not cut out for a best friend or even friends, which often leaves me feeling lonely and I have to suppress it and pretend I don’t care. Where as in reality I do care and it makes me fear for the future because if I can’t hold a best friend now then how can I ever in the future? And isn’t a significant other/ partner actually just a best friend in hindsight? Does that mean I’ll be lonely forever? I’ve gone to the ends o the Earth and given everything I have just to secure friendship and even more to secure a best friend and in the end, I’ve pushed myself too hard to secure it and essentially just blown it all to pieces within the space of a very few, short, seconds.

I’ve gone off topic here and made it clear that in actual fact that I’m never going to be able to let go of the past. I’ve forgiven but honestly, I hate it but I’ve not forgotten and every once in a while a memory that I have lost just pops up out of nowhere and the blurred lines become unblurred and the jigsaws just form together, and the past events just become real again. It just makes me realize how much I’ve glossed over, and how much everybody else has glossed over and forgotten where it just haunts me, but I have to disregard it all because it’s in the past and everybody’s moved on and forgotten.

I don’t want to end it on this note so I’m going to try and create something new, that I’ve not spoken about before. Okay, I lied but I’m not going to get annoyed with myself. Truth be told barely any of my blog posts are my own ideas, they’re either spur of the moment decisions or I have to look for inspiration, usually in the form of an image, video or a quote. Some great quotes being: “stars can’t shine without darkness”, “just because my path is different doesn’t mean I’m lost”, “we accept the love we think we deserve” “difficult roads lead to beautiful destinations”, all which I will insert at the end, and more. I read them, and whilst reading them I smile like nothing else because they inspire me and motivate me. They tell me it’s not all just over yet, and persuade me to keep fighting. It’s like an award or medal for me, reading these give me recognition even though they are so generic that anybody can search the first page of google for them, but I always feel like they were made personally for me. Like Adele when she was given the Grammy that she snapped. They convince me to march on, keep fighting and doing what I’m doing, they motivate me to do it for myself, THE future, (not just mine), for my family for my friends, and for me, they motivate me and inspire me to help others. Thus every time I do help somebody else in a similar ditch I smile with pride because I know I’ve tried to make a significant difference and maybe it just worked, more over I know that if I keep it up I can continue to keep trying and I never give up hope that I could help. It gets unbearingly hard sometimes but I don’t have it in me to give up. I have a friend that has been going through all sorts of changed recently from anxiety, to minor depression, to emo, to transgender, to major depression, who incidentally tried to hurt themselves majorly once and no matter how hard they’ve tried to push me away I’ve never once given up hope. Not only that but I’ve cried myself at night because of the fear I felt for them, and it strives me to continue working at it, chipping away at the wall they’ve barricaded around themselves.

I’m going to end it here and just wondering if anybody has any ideas on what I could make my next blog post about.