Each and every time I post within this blog I realise that I’ve broken my promise.
My promise to myself was to write more frequently, not only about my progress from depression but my continuing recovery.
I’ve failed or have I?
In all honesty yes and no.
It might be a good reason or explanation on why I’ve not sat down and penned a more detailed assessment of my life through depression in a book format.
Because at times mental health, it’s just so difficult to write about.
Writing for me has been a growing passion, and in equal amounts of loving it, I equally fear it too.
Writing, once written, provides me with a sense of relief and achievement all at the same time.
Before it, frustration, self-doubt and anxiety.
Today’s article has been waiting patiently to be written, but when and only I was ready.
The problem being I was scared to write it, scared to express my emotions down on a page, despite doing it time and time before it.
Sometimes you just have to remember why you started things in the first place.
Writing has helped me just as much as the doctors and counsellors did.
That ability to open up and leave everything out on the page.
Write for yourself and no one else, it’s a personal journey, one that I needed to voice, and it maybe written in a format for the world to see, but it’s not written for the world to judge.
Black behind my eyes is exactly how I felt in those dark moments of depression, others relate it to a black dog and each to their own on how we all describe it.
All I know is it’s one of the worst illnesses I’ve ever experienced and wouldn’t wish it on anyone, as it is that bad.
I sincerely hope you never have to find out.
Yesterday a flashback appeared against something I had written 12 months ago, I felt it beneficial to include it in this blog article today.
“Depression is one of the hardest things to explain especially when you don’t fully understand it yourself.
When you feel your just starting to turn corners your self doubt is so high it just hits you, whilst your self confidence is at an all time low.
I feel like I have no identity because the things I once held so close and my passions have disappeared with it.
I found writing to not only be a great release but I held it as a passion and right now through fear I may never write again.
The last few days prove to me no matter how much I want it, or how much I need it, I’m far from ready.
But I’ll always have hope, and by hiding away solves nothing, no matter how hard each day can seem.
I may lack in having an identity but I still have a vision, and the only way I’ll get to it is to keep stepping forward.”
I followed that up with this update.
“It’s weird, 12 months on, I truly felt at times that I not only lost my way but I lost my identity with it.
It’s difficult to truly explain other than imagine waking up and everything you ever knew, you doubted you’ve ever done or trust in yourself that you did.
Like a mind wipe, everything had gone!
Days like this, last year, I couldn’t even imagine getting better, coming full circle and returning to the person I once knew.
But I did!
And I’ll always be truly thankful for being able to do so.”
In reality even reading it back today it’s a great reminder of how far I have come, and will continue to keep going.
I’m still not where I’d like to be life wise and working wise, but I’m lucky, I’ve managed through time and patience to return back to the person I once knew, when hope was merely a word you clinged onto rather than believed in.
A note for myself.
Whenever you feel the fear, just take a breathe and embrace it anyway.