Breaking the silence

After some consideration I have decided this is the best place to put the following couple of paragraphs. It is nothing to do with food, drink or restaurants so I’m sorry to disappoint you there. The topic instead is one that I feel needs to be addressed so that people can actually understand where I am at and the reason I have made various life decisions. It is pretty difficult to write and I acknowledge it may come across a bit scrambled but please deal with that and carry on reading.

For anybody that has known me for a long period of time this will come as no surprise (though it may to those that I see in very specific circumstances because i do my best to cover up this stuff on a daily basis).

I recently hit absolute crisis point. The last twelve months of my life have been an absolute personal nightmare and one that I have occasionally touched on in other pieces of my writing but perhaps not enough for others to understand.

To explain the present I really need to explain the past. I’ve suffered from ‘depression’, ‘low mood’, ‘anxiety’ and all that stuff for basically the last ten years on and off (honestly more on than off). People think that must be an exaggeration and fact warped by my current state but actually if you look in my medical records ten years ago people were already discussing therapy. Six and a half years ago I ended up in hospital after trying to kill myself (much to the amusement of a handful of people in high school). Before that I had already been sent off to seek mental medical help from the police after struggling with a variety of issues. The main thing I remember about growing up on a weekly basis apart from the mockery in P.E lessons, the school week and when dinner time was is going to see one therapist or another.

After moving away from the people and places that reminded me of the trauma and the horror that was my life for five years I thought things would get easier but they didn’t. I was scarred by the way society had treated me, I constantly had my guard up and had become so insular that I didn’t even see myself in the mirror. Making friends that liked me for me and not letting them see my broken self was always going to be an impossible mission. Slowly things started to change and I broke down the barriers I had created and moved on and away even further.

Within three months at my first university I had sunk pretty badly into a pit of sadness and was overwhelmed with life. I went about hiding in my own world and trying to just forget that I existed. I forced myself to try again at a different university the next year thinking that perhaps it would be different and somehow it was the right university that could bring me happiness. And for a while it, the people in it and the structure did but that feeling of happiness didn’t last for long.

I felt at home at the new university. Like it was where I was meant to be. I felt like I was surrounded by a number of good friends and like everything from my past was finally behind me and I could move on. But nothing is safe from depression coming along and ruining everything.

Over my last year of university my attendance just withered away and I could see more and more people were judging me and questioning where I was (and that only made it harder). I was barely able to do anything other than try to become that friendly and bubbly girl around people to counter-act the way I was starting to feel inside. Apart from medical professionals I didn’t really know who to tell about how bad I was feeling. By the time May came around I had given up on myself as much as most of my lecturers had.

I remember thinking that perhaps if they realised the reason I wasn’t in that day was because I had cuts on my body, was unable to muster the care to get out of bed or because I had just spent hours not daring to move from the middle of the train platform in case I decided to jump (because let me tell you most days it was a real struggle to not think those things) maybe they would be less harsh and more understanding.

Things haven’t really got better since May. I just hide away at home, as far away from the knives as possible and try not to hate myself and the world so much.

it’s pretty difficult though especially when your university “loses” your application for extenuating circumstances with a bunch of doctors notes attached and refuse to let you appeal or do anything about it. When they basically seem to brush aside how a person feels and just bang on about the rules and regulations constantly how am I supposed to fully explain. When they seemingly say that because you have depression you cannot be clever enough to do any of the modules you want to do and do not understand that the ones they want you to do are extremely anxiety inducing and would not aid the recovery.

At present I see very few people, bail on people all the time because I just cannot handle going outside, being judged and feeling like a failure. I’m not getting better and instead just talk into a void about not understanding why things are like this. I want to ask people to treat me normally but I cannot treat myself that way. I feel like I’ve already been forgotten by some of the people that I believe to be my most important and close friends and all because I don’t know how to tell them how bad things are in my head.

I know this is jumbled and makes little sense. I don’t want your sympathy. I just want you to understand that if I became distant it isn’t because I aren’t your friend it’s because I aren’t my friend. I’ve wanted to end my life for so many years but people that matter keep saying things will get better so I am waiting for that day but in the meantime if anybody wants to come round and watch Netflix with me or go for coffee in a not-stressful and relaxed environment then just let me know.

I’m sorry I’m not the perfect person, the best friend, the most normal person in the world but I am trying if you could just give me time instead of running away at the first sign of trouble that would be grand (unless you aren’t actually my friend then f**k off out my life I don’t need time wasters and haters).

2 thoughts on “Breaking the silence

  1. This is a great blog post (I’ve been having a nose around your blog). It is surprising how uncomfortable people can be when someone tells them that they have some form of mental illness. I love the blog, please keep going.


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