I don’t think anybody realises how terrifying and difficult a place depression is, until you’re standing in those shoes yourself.
You can be the queen of the world, stood at the very top yourself with your diamond encrusted crown on top of your head and money bags by your feet, with every single person in the universe bowing down at your feet. I mean, you can have everything. And depression will still find a way to get to you, to sneak in. It will find the tiniest crack to slither through and crawl over your skin, into your pores, until soon it’s consuming you.
Suddenly, this week, without warning and without proper reason, I have been back there again. I have been that 17 year old girl who jumped into a canal impromptly to try and stop that consumation. I have been that 17 year old who walked into an icy cold river in her pyjamas to try and shock her body into feeling something other than pain. Or that 15 year old girl who started to self harm because she wanted to feel pain in her body rather than her heart.
Only, now I have something to live for. I am 23, paying my own bills and rent, bringing up the most beautiful little girl and running two businesses. I am doing this all on my own, despite the depression, despite sleep deprivation (co sleeping is BULLSHIT!) and escaping what was somewhat a controlling relationship, I have done it. I am doing it. I am amazing and fantastic.
For the past few weeks I have felt fantastic. I have established a career from home and earnt a vast income. I have come off benefits and done it all by myself. And yet, a few days ago, I woke up with that feeling of dread and I could just not shake it. I felt that dread over again. I did what I could to take myself away from it, I still am. But I feel like I’m drowning. I can’t sleep to escape it because my mind will not let me rest. I can’t relax because I have a child needing me, and I have constant chatter in my brain, and I have all these jobs to do. I am strung so tightly by responsibilities and things i need and WANT to do and yet my brain is telling me I can’t. I can’t motivate myself to do anything. And my to do list piles up. My anxiety piles up. And it’s just…
I don’t know. I am sick of this illness. This depression. I am terrified that after 10 years already this is my life forever. I am terrified of not being the mum my little girl needs. I am scared.