Contents below are of a sensitive nature and may be distressing
I’ve spent what feels like months trying to write this. Every single day I I’ve set out to do this and failed.
I’ve thought about how on Earth I would explain this, what I want to do about it and why. Truth is I can’t explain it and if I carry on trying to and waiting until I’ve got the right words then it will be too late. So, instead I am just going to come out with it very bluntly.
My depression is killing me. I desperately want to recover and I want to document it. Have a diary, blog it, YouTube, whatever. I want to use it to try and hold myself to account and also it might help someone else.
I think I know how I want to do it but I’m also very aware of how many times I’ve tried to do something like this and failed. The first thing I need to do is figure out some kind of plan however rough it might be. The only steps I’m sure of are starting this process, which hallelujah I have now, and that I need to get out exactly what my head is putting me through.
It’s a scary thought, opening up to the world. But I need to get it out of me if anything so I can look back and see how far I’ve come in the future, however long it takes.
I won’t write an essay, I’ll most likely be revisiting details as I go through this journey. A massive part of me feels awful for the fact that I have kept this from so many people, thinking of myself as some kind of burden if they knew. I don’t want my little black rain cloud in anyone else’s lives. I’ve been in therapy for various issues since I was a child which isn’t a massive secret to a few but I am a fantastic liar when it comes to sharing why and how bad things have got.
I lie to everyone, every day. My friends, family, my son and I even lie to my partner.
The truth is that I’m suicidal and every single second of the day is a battle to fight it. I’m exhausted. If it wasn’t for my son I wouldn’t be here and it’s taken me a very long time to convince myself to not be ashamed to admit that. This is what recovery is about. In terms of support I’ve had for it I’ve been through all therapy available to me, medication, you name it I’ve done it. The mental health care where I am isn’t fit for purpose and I’ve been told several times that because of the very complex problems I have there just isn’t the right treatment available for me. I’ve also been through some horrific events while under mental health care that I can’t share because I’m still going through the legal fallout from it. All they can do for me at this point in time is monitor me through 6 month appointments to assess if I need sectioning. Without hundreds of thousands of pounds for specialist private help on the mainland, the only person that can help me possibly recover is me. Very dangerous but it is what it is and at least I have the desperation to recover. It’s agony, but I have to keep trying for my son.
Things have come to a head, I remember times where it used to be almost easy to pull myself through it all but thanks to my physical health also deteriorating significantly it’s left me too tired to block out my mental issues. I feel now like I’m helplessly watching my life waste away. But where looking back used to make me hate myself even more for not being as strong as I used to be, I’m now forcing myself to see it as hope for how I can be once again.
I lost myself a long time ago. Whilst I know that I will never be free of mental health issues, I might be able to cope with them and be myself again. Be the parent that my son deserves.
I am hopeful that with the help and support from my son, my partner (and of course my dog) I will get there.
So this is it. The beginning of the rest of my life. Day 1.