Saturday, 5 July 2014

The dark cloud that follows me around.

5 years ago when I got depression I kept it private. It's not something people generally shout about and unfortunately many people are quick to judge. 
Two weeks ago I went through an incredibly public break down during the final rehearsals for my dance show. I was going out of my mind and crumbling in front of around 150 different people. Some who I'd known for 23 years, others I'd only ever walked past 5 minutes previously. 
No one had a clue what was going on (including myself) and I think a lot of people were confused about how to treat the situation, especially since every time someone asked what was wrong I gave them a totally different answer.
I'm gutted I let something, that will inevitably seem so trivial, destroy what is usually one of the happiest weeks of the year. Something not only I, but everyone around me, had worked so hard for. I will always regret not being able to push on with the shows and unfortunately the memories will always be tainted with sadness.
It's been a two weeks since the show finished and it has been one of the toughest periods I can remember. I'm not sure dancing will ever feel the same again to me now, and that hurts more than anything.
Although I am still not myself, I am on the very long path to recovery. But this time I'm doing it properly. This past week has made me realise I can't rely on drugs to control me and alter my mood, the only thing that can control me IS ME. 

Getting help can be difficult. I certainly haven't sat back and popped pills exclusively for the last 5 years. Sometimes it feels like unless you are stood on a bridge ready to jump off then no one will take you seriously. What I think some people find difficult to realise is, we are all stood on a metaphorical bridge. I had no idea I was there. I thought I was perfectly happy with the way my life was. All it took was one little thing to knock me over the edge. I was on a mental ledge and I jumped off in to a pool of depression. No I am not physically harming myself, or plotting ways to end my life but I haven't left my bed in two weeks, I haven't eaten a full meal in even longer. That isn't living. 

I'm trying every day to find that slither of positive light lodged in among the dark clouds that follow me around. Yesterday I sat at the top of my stairs. It wasn't much, but it was a start. 

I'm no longer afraid of my depression. It is incredibly common in this day and age to have a mental illness and the more people speak up about it the more awareness people will gain.



1 comment:

  1. I've also suffered with depression and seasonal affective disorder for around six years. Throughout these periods of time the best advice I have been given is to just take baby steps, because one day you will glance backwards and realise just how far you've come. Recovery is a journey and not a destination.

    Keep at it, I'm rooting for you xxx

    Jemma // Jemma In Words

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