Friday, 26 June 2015

An Open Letter About My Depression

Dear somebody, everybody and nobody,

It's been a while since I've spoken properly about my depression - although you'll know that it's beating me down a little, if you follow me on Twitter, or if you read my beautiful girlfriend's post about depression in our relationship. Depression is hard - it stands in the way of it's own development, when you think you're back on solid ground, depression throws in pits of quick sand disguised as paving slabs. Depression is waging a war with yourself whilst making it seem like the fight is with everything around you instead. Lately, it's been winning the battle - but I refuse to let it.

I'm struggling to find a future with my depression - I stopped taking my medication, and as time went on I found it more and more difficult to go back to my Doctor and admit what a mistake this was; this means that whereas I was facing a battle with at least a little cushioning, for the last few months I've been going it alone, wearing my pyjamas. I've been selfish, and silly, and I've refused help - until this week. Things shouldn't have to get this bad for you to ask for help, though - help is there, utilise it before the voices telling you how you're not worth it are louder than your own.

Cheeky Boo Colouring Book Page
Picture taken of my Cheekyboo Positive Thoughts Colouring Book

I sometimes worry I go on about my depression too much - I worried that I overshared when I talked about my ongoing problems with self harm, I worry that I put too much about how it affects my family life, relationship and future on the internet - but it's important. Documenting a struggle is important, showing a visual diary for yourself is important, standing alongside those who feel alone but might sympathise and relate is important. There are still stigmas to break, and my blog is barely chipping away at the corner - but it's important, so important I will yell on this tiny bit of the internet continuously, if that's what it takes.

I would be lying if I said that I didn't see an end to my life more often that I'd like to, but I realise that I have Katy - who washes my hair in the bath, gets spontaneous body modifications with me and kisses my shoulders when she turns over in her sleep. I have my family, who I might have disagreements with but whom are all fantastic in their own way. I have my best friend, who sadly knows my struggle better than most, and is always there with an animal mask to make me laugh and a reassuring word. Depression is ugly, and unpleasant, and so downright difficult I wake up some days wondering how I survived the day before - but I did, and I will continue to.

I am sorry for the last few months, to those whom I've been less than a great friend, sister or daughter to - I am trying.

Sammy xo.

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