Is it really that easy? To get back up after you have been at your very lowest?
This time last year, I know exactly where I was… I was in My university Town; My wrist bands had fallen off and I was changing medication because the Fluoxetine was making my life hell. I was hoping for things to get better, but not expecting them to.
Depression hit me like a ton of bricks.
It completely blindsided me and I spent a year trying to medicate it away; then a few weeks stopping and starting my medication because I listened to some harsh words; and then a further few months reeling after stopping it cold turkey. All that time and energy, to get to a point where depression isn’t my main thought. It’s not gone, but I don’t fixate on it quite as much anymore.
I realise that any of the passers by on this page will probably be seeking something akin to support; seeking answers or just solidarity in how they feeling. Because it’s terrifying. And just like you my imaginary friends, I scoured the internet for hours and hours looking to find people who could understand; people I could identify with. Because the truth of the matter was that I felt so alone, and so scared and so frustrated by everything that was happening that I didn’t know where to turn.
But I was fortunate.
Sitting here now I can see how lucky I was in the support I had. The university and the health centre saw to it that I was helped in every way they could. I didn’t have to wait to see a councillor; I was granted leniencies and extensions and exceptions that I never expected. Because I didn’t think anyone would believe me. Because I didn’t expect anyone to.
And that was an appalling oversight on my part.
I know I’ve talked a little about the stigma of mental health and depression in earlier posts, and I firmly believe it is real because I’ve seen it; but what I didn’t realise at the time is you are just as judgemental and just as cruel to yourself as any of those closed minded bigots.
In some ways you are worse, not many granted, but as the sufferer you are there for every stumble of thought; you see every time you cant get up; you know every time you realise you are lacking. And that’s not easy. Because essentially, depression lies to you.
I went from trusting my on thoughts and being so completely self assured and confident in my believes and convictions, to nothingness. No sadness. No happiness. No anything. I went to blank. Empty. I was a clean slate and not only could not I remember how to function anymore, but I just didn’t see the point.
And it has taken me a very long time to realize how this nothingness, and the following barrage of negativity, affects you afterwards. It’s taken me longer still to accept this. Because you basically having to accept that those weeks, those months, where you thought the world was out to get you and where you were your own worse critic, may not have been an accurate representation of reality. And that’s a difficult pill to swallow. Because It’s bloody hard not to trust your thoughts. Its bloody hard to be forced to question what is true and what isn’t at every stage of recovery, but it’s what you need to do. Surely that’s how you get up back up? By questioning everything until you can say, with as much conviction as before, that this is real.