Tag Archives: rest of my life

I’m Plagued by Thoughts

21 Jan

Dear Diary,

I’m at my most dangerous when I begin to think and I’ve been doing just that over the past couple of days. It’s strange how I can avoid listening to my thoughts and feelings because I have gotten into a habit of waking up each morning and wanting to cry. Depression has the power to strip your personality down to the bone; it knocks your confidence more roughly than a Tsunami and leaves you with little more than a shadow of your former self. Only now with the help of counselling am I beginning to piece together my thoughts and learning to stand my ground when a problem arises. It’s all too easy to curl up in my bed, tug the covers over my head and hide from the world when I feel like I’m falling apart, but I want to grow as a person and I above all else I have to succeed.

Everything I have ever touched has fallen apart whether it was my family unit, hopes of an education or my mental health. I blame myself continuously for everything that has ever happened because isn’t it my fault I’m depressed? I’ve heard so many clichéd responses to a depressed person, I’m sure I could write a book on it. But common sense usually prevails and I remind myself Depression is a treatable mental illness, I’m seeking help at long last and I don’t wish to be smothered by this black cloud for the rest of my life.

It’s far too simple to allow myself to be labelled as the “Depressed Girl” until the end of my days and if I did that, what would I achieve? And furthermore, wouldn’t I have wasted my life fluctuating between being miserable and downright drowning in my own tears?

Sometimes I can’t help but think it would be easier that way. If I remained depressed and feeling like an outsider each time I stepped out of my front door, I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain and stir up memories I don’t want to deal with. When I hit the age of eleven I was already a master at bottling up my own misery, sealing said bottle and hiding it under my bed. Before I knew it I was sleeping on a mountain of bottled tears and the tip of my nose was greeting the clouds.

Refusing to be drawn on my feelings worked for me at the time and I stuck with that very way of life until the age of seventeen when I became absolutely terrified of my own thoughts. When I look back now it’s obvious to me I became severely depressed by the time I reached eighteen. I was suicidal and wanting nothing more than to leave full stop. I self harmed, I cried myself to sleep, at times I even felt like I was losing my mind because I was in so much pain, but I’m still here now and whenever you hear the phrase “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” take heed, because it’s true.

When I’m faced with another wave of depression now, I see the oncoming signs and I know when to hunker down. I avoid getting into situations that will drag me down further, I cry when I need to shed tears because bottling things up is dangerous and I type my innermost feelings out and post them here. There are many reasons why I do the latter, but the most important aspect is this: I would never want anybody to feel as alone as I once did.

Overall and with almost eight years of depression behind me I know I’m okay right now. I’ve been better and I’ve certainly been worse, but feeling “okay” gives me a foundation to work from and with the correct tools, I will construct a life around me before the year is out.

– Raindrops

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