Firstly I want to say thank you to all the messages of support that to have received since my last post. This illness makes me feel isolated a lot of time and having people read this blog and tell me that I’m not the only one dealing with this illness and how I can get through this is all is just something I really don’t know how to describe. It does however make me feel less alone in the world and I am reminded of the kindness of strangers. Most of you don’t know me, we could walk past each other in the street and you would have no idea that the person writing this post just walked past you. But yet that doesn’t stop you from reaching out…
I’m okay, for the most part I guess and back in Edinburgh. Going home to London did me a lot of good and whilst I’m not fixed, I haven’t woke up in the last week suddenly cured of my depression but I feel less empty than I did before. I don’t know whether that makes much sense but then again I haven’t made much sense to myself in a very long time. I was in a really bad place last week, the darkest place I have ever known myself to be and it was scary. Never before have I ever felt that bad and wanted to do something about it as I like living, for the most part I like who I am despite my numerous problems. But the pain was too much, that sinking feeling was overwhelming and I was really tired that day. Tired that my life was falling apart again because it’s looking like history is going to repeat itself and I may be homeless again. This year was supposed to be different, I said that things had to be different because of I ended up in that same dark place I was in before when I was pretty much homeless and bouncing around places again then it would kill me. There are days I don’t want to wake up because then it means I have to deal with that fact again, plaguing my every thought along with my usual load of problems with money and my roommates not doing anything, leaving me to do it all. For a 22 year old whose depressed and trying to get my life on track, it’s a lot for me to deal with alone which is why I have thoughts like that…
That night I was a mess and after I handed my roommate the bag filled with all the pills I had in my room, I picked up my phone and called home. I spoke to my mum who has become used to her typical aloof middle child calling her in hysterics over the last 18 months. I told my mum I needed to come home as I couldn’t stay in Edinburgh, she was calm about it despite the late hour. My mum called my aunt and had her transfer money into my account so I could come home. I had my roommate give me just over a week’s supply of antidepressants and I took a coach home at 6:30am last Monday and it took me about 12 hours to get home. It seemed longer than that because it seems like my days are so long and my nights are barely existent any more. There was such a huge relief to be back home and that night I slept for 11 whole hours, something I haven’t been able to do in months. Going home meant I didn’t have to be the one who was in charge, forced to be the responsible one who had to deal with everyone because none of my roommates couldn’t be asked to help. I got to be carefree. I could be the one who was looked after. I didn’t have to have all the answers.
I saw my family for the first time in six months and I say that they drive me crazy but they are a good kind of crazy. The manageable kind of crazy and they made everything feel okay. They have been great about the whole thing and not smothering me about what happened, just keeping an eye on me from a distance. Being back home in London was somewhat liberating, I spent time with my family and caught up with my best friends along with other friends who I haven’t seen in several months. One of them is actually coming up in a couple of days and we’re going to hang out for the day and I’m looking forward to it. I can’t remember the last time that I looked forward to something and it wasn’t in a sarcastic way. That time at home seemed to go by very quickly and I had to come back to face my problems, when I was in London my family promised to help me out with the housing situation and money. Everything seemed to be manageable but then it change, pretty much as soon as I crossed the boarder it all came back. The fear and anxiety, almost as if it was waiting for me to comeback. I remember sitting on the coach and feeling the weight of my world on my shoulder and wishing that the coach would turn around and take me back to London as I just didn’t want to come back to Edinburgh.
It seems like I can’t escape my problems for long.
I know I have to deal with them. I have a doctors appointment in a couple of days and I’m going to tell my GP about the pill thing, about how I had the urge to take a handful of pills and swallow them. I know when I get there she’ll ask how I’m doing and I’ll admit that things haven’t been good. I’ll tell her why and things will go from there. My GP is a very nice lady and she wants to help, she’s one of the few people over the last year who I feel actually wants to help me. She doesn’t mind when I start crying in the middle of the appointment, I hate it when that happens, I hate crying or rather I hate it when I cry as I find it to be a weakness within myself but I think that she thinks that the crying is healthy. When I think all is lost and there is nothing left, she tells me that things will get better and I am strong enough to survive. It’s not hard to believe her but I lack so much faith these days that believing that I can get my life back is something that I’m not sure whether I can believe in any more. Part of the reason why I’m so messed up is because I worry too much, I over think and get myself worked up over things that shouldn’t involve me and my roommates play too much of a factor in my life. I get wound up over things that they have done. But it’s hard not when they dump everything on me, refuse to give me money for the bills or have their names put on the bills, go around telling my friends that I’m an alcoholic and in general take responsibility for anything.
I’m trying to not have a complete mental breakdown whilst trying to get my life back together and it’s not easy. I feel like I am constantly taking steps back. I know I have things to look forward to, things to be grateful for but I can’t be happy. I feel like I don’t know how to be happy any more. All over facebook university friends are posting that they have got their dissertation results back and now know the classification degree and posting sappy messages about how they couldn’t have done without so and so, thanking countless people and saying how they are looking forward to graduation. Every time I see a post about that I feel this void in myself. That empty feeling comes back and the self destructive tendency that I have within myself comes back. I’m reminded that I’m supposed to be there. I am supposed to be posting a dumb message like that because I am supposed to be graduating with them but I’m not. I am not graduating because I am repeating third year because I was too stupid to keep a grip on life and deal with my problems. I was that girl who couldn’t deal with reality, couldn’t get her crap together and ended up becoming depressed, failing most of my classes and being forced to repeat the year. That’s me. Complete and utter failure. I’m still struggling to get my crap together. It’s going to take me five years to complete a four year course. People try and put a spin on it, put an upside on it but there is no upside to that. You can’t make a massive failure like that seem like a good thing. I feel like my whole life is going to be defined by that. Not to mention my illness.
I have this post it on my bedroom wall, not to far from where my pillows are. It’s close enough that I can see it and read it fro my bed, without my new reading glasses. Several weeks ago I wrote down on a pink post it note ‘ I will not let this illness ruin my life’ but the funny thing is I think it has already ruined my life. It’s ruined my life just like my father and my stepfather have ruined my life. Having depression has opened my eyes and taught me many things, I’ve been able to see who I can really depend on but it’s ruined my life. Right now there are more bad days then there are happy days. It makes it hard to get out of bed and there are some days that I don’t get out of bed. I spent the whole of today in my pyjamas barely moving from my bed. But I did study. For several hours I studied for my upcoming exams in August, it wasn’t much but I tried. I’m also trying to teach myself French, I’ve downloaded apps onto my phone and maybe someday I’ll take myself to Paris. I guess the whole point is, that despite everything I’m still trying. I feel like a constant failure, my life seems a complete mess but I still want to get my degree. I wanted to hurt myself last week but I didn’t, I did something about it and here I still am. Trying to survive this illness.
I feel so lost all the time. But maybe a part of me on a subconscious level is refusing to let me fail.