CN: I discuss depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress and thoughts on mortality in this post. If these things are triggering to you, please do not read.
Okay, I was going to write an expansive post about my own experiences with depression, anxiety and post traumatic stress because it's Mental Health Awareness Week and that seems like a relevant thing to do. It was going to be helpful and wordy, maybe even coherent. However, right now, I don't have the words. Not really. That's the thing about depression, it takes your words from you and places you in spaces where everybody and everything is asking you for a response. The space becomes noisy, almost suffocatingly so, but some dickhead is blocking the exit and so you have no choice but to sit it out and pray that everyone pipes down.
I am currently in that space. I mean, I'm probably always to some degree in that space and I have been since I was around 8 years old. I distinctly remember having lots of panic attacks as a child. When the rug wasn't being pulled out from under me, I was worrying that it would be any time soon and that feeling is something that I have only just about been able to shake off. As I got older, and found myself in a destructive and abusive living situation, my depression progressed. I drank a lot. The drink didn't help but I craved the person I was when I drank. To everyone on the outside of my head, I looked so happy. I could find my words, even though I struggled to make them form coherent sentences. I felt in control of my uncontrollable nature. It makes fuck all sense now but, then again, I doubt it made any sense then either.
Since being diagnosed with Crohns Disease, and since my life saving operation a couple of years ago, I have watched my mental health transform into something bigger. The cloud can now get darker and Mr Anxiety-Post-Traumatic-Stress (what a name!) knocks on my door every morning to hand me the paper and engage me in light over-the-fence talk: 'You know there's probably something brewing away inside of you right now that will eventually kill you off? Your know you'll live your life in hospitals, so is there any point in settling and enjoying the things that everybody takes for granted?' I find it difficult to separate the symptoms of each illness, because they can be so intertwined.
There are good days and bad days, as expected. Some days, like today, I can wake up and I will be fine. I can live, as a depressive, and be fine. Others, I spend living under a metaphorical cloud. That's a bit of an overdone metaphor but, fuck it, I'm using it. Sometimes I'll have lots of noise in my head brewing mounds of make believe bollocks. Sometimes there will be this sort of brooding silence for minutes, hours, maybe whole days.
There are some people that will completely get your problems. There will be friends that are going through the same thing as you, and will weirdly message you just when you're feeling at your worst. It becomes a comfort because it just further illustrates that you will never be alone in your thoughts. I am lucky to have some fantastic best friends. There are others that won't quite understand why you feel the way you do. I often find that in order to best understand such problems, you need to have been close to them. Maybe. I don't know. That's my theory. The fog becomes familiar and you begin to understand its triggers, if there are any, and can learn to help accordingly. You know, in some ways I get why people find it so hard to comprehend. We, as a society, don't view mental health conditions as illnesses as we should so, for some, it can seem pretty fucking terrifying and elusive. It's difficult to process the things that are beyond our control, sometimes. Not everybody will understand your cloud or your shit sundae *foreshadowing, ooh* but you just have to try and focus your energies onto the most important person in the equation: you.
And you know what, it can be pretty fucking terrifying for the sufferer too. But I have things that help me get by somewhat, and I have self care and the reassurance that I am much bigger and much more powerful than my health problems. I am the fucking lizard king. Depression is a shit sundae, and anxiety is the sauce on that shit sundae, and post-traumatic stress is the cherry on top of said sauce-smothered shit sundae, but I am not that sundae and that sundae isn't me.
Fuck, I want a toffee sundae.
Sundae.
I do not know why this has taken such a dessert-based turn so lets try and round things up, shall we?!
If you're struggling right now: indulge in some self care, take time, speak to people if you want to or if you feel that you can and know that I'm rooting for you. If you're someone who knows someone who is struggling right now: communicate with them, ask if you can be of any help and, if so, how. Be a good friend.
I wish I could do more but I am only one person and I'm not even remotely qualified. I am qualified, however, to speak up and share my experience. And so, I will be doing so until the cows come home.
