And So It Begins...

This is an attempt - on a long line of previous attempts, in many a different guise - to gain some control. I am someone who has depression but I am not a negative person. Predominantly and at my core, I am an optimist. I am hopeful. My downfall lies in the intricacies of my personality and the way I have been brought up. I am a perfectionist to the extreme and have become so much so that it paralyses me. I expect so much and am now floored by the fact that I can give so little.

I'm going to say it doesn't matter to me if no one reads this blog at the end of the day, but I will write as if someone will.

This is a diary of sorts: a place for me to share my thoughts on any topic or concern that my mind drifts towards and lingers on for longer than a fickle thought that can be dismissed and thrown away.

Blogging is, after all, a modernised journal if you choose to use it in such a way; and I (briefly) tried regular journal writing. It didn't work. I failed to get past the sense that it felt entirely empty and pointless to write about life in such detail when there is zero potential for any sort of readership other than yourself, which may seem odd as you generally don't want to expose the things written in a diary to any eyes other than your own, but I'm on a specific mission. I'd like to be able to say that I'm on a journey, if I can only make myself believe that I'm going somewhere...   

So, where to begin?

This is extremely difficult for me and mentally draining, even with the absence of real talking. I live in a constant state of denial so when that veil of self-protection is stripped away I'm left a little raw and open to outside damage.

I have had depression since I was 11 or 12 years old. I'm now 23 - which, in actual fact, is staggering to me. I can barely get my head around it. I have no idea where all that time has gone. In many ways I feel exactly the same as I did at 16. Yes, I am 23, but I have never been an adult. I have never been a teenager. Those years passed me by whilst I was in a state of internal lock-down. This means I have not developed along with my friends and contemporaries. I have not changed at the point (...the many points) in my life when I should have and should be changing and developing and experiencing the most of all - discovering who I am, absorbing what is necessary and becoming someone new. I've missed them all. I feel I have lost most of my identity and am either defined by this thing that has wrapped its chains around my ankles or I am nothing at all. And, I'll be honest, it hurts like hell. Although most of the time this pain expresses itself only as a constant numbness - a blurring of my perception of the real world and the death of my ability to live in it effectively. 

I stress again: I am not without hope. I cling to it. It is my lifeboat on this dark sea that I'm stranded on, but I sometimes feel it slipping from under my body and am suddenly shockingly aware of the danger - of how precariously close I am to sliding beneath the surface and drowning.

Nobody knows what I'm going through. I don't ever want to sound self-involved or sorry-for-myself so I mean this in the most literal way. The situation is made all the more difficult in this regard by the fact that it makes no real sense - there is no reason for it and some people find this hard to comprehend. A persons personality and demeanour, combined with subtle circumstances which endeavour to pull the trigger, are often enough to set it off - in a similar way to being the carrier of a disease which lies dormant until outside forces bring it to full fruition. I've lived with my parents the entire time and they remain, as far as I can tell, astonishingly unaware of the depth of my problems. It has risen to the surface on two separate occasions against my will, both while I was still at school. And though some part of me longs for it to be out in the open and not be 'my secret' any longer, I've discovered that once it's unveiled a switch is flicked to 'auto-pilot' and I can't help but play down and deny - anything to avoid further discussion on such topics and quash the need for more interrogation. The word 'depression' was thrown around on one or two occasions, never verbally by myself, but I can't help but feel it slipped by my parents un-noticed and unacknowledged. I endured a number of months of counselling at 17 but a fairly strong start soon descended into prolonged sessions of silence and an eventual declaration from the counsellor that she believed I was fine and we had done all that needed to be done. You can assume from all of this that I get by. I do get by but I struggle like hell. Every day is a struggle. I feel as though I'm fighting a battle in my head at every moment and there is no way of knowing how it will turn out or how long I'll be able to continue to keep it hidden without explosion or further descent. My stubborn half-belief that I can get through it alone proves increasingly without merit. I have 12 years on the calendar that say otherwise. This is my journey and everyday I'm fighting for a new beginning. I need to keep the flame alight because I think I have the capacity to love life. I dream of what I can do with it once I'm a 'whole' and 'proper' person. It's simply a great shame that, as it stands, I struggle massively to see any point to it at all. Though when I fixate on this point I can think of no possible explanation on the meaning of life and the existence of the universe which would ever fully satisfy my curiosity and yearning for a purpose. 

I am not naive. I know that everybody comes across hard times. Nobody is immune to the difficulties life throws in our path, no matter who they are, what their bank balance reads or how their life appears to others. Each of our struggles are different but we're united by the fact that they exist and we must overcome them. 

So this is one of mine and it's a tough one. The truth is I have no idea what will happen or whether things will ever be 'right' but all anyone can do is hope and try like hell. There's so much more I have to say and an infinite amount that I have to do and, while this is often what scares me, I can't help feeling a twinge of excitement at the thought of all the possibilities, as long as I'm caught in the right frame of mind.