Being Brave (...on a life after depression!)

 Morning Folks,

So following Matt Haig on twitter is inspiring. I'll say that first. Sometimes I get to a point where I begin to worry that talking about my mental health is oversharing, and as though I'm irritating. But reading Matt Haig's tweets mean that I feel safe and confident enough to share. I will gain nothing from being silent and afraid, and nor will those that battle alongside me. So I am trying to be brave.

The thing about coming out of depression is that it feels like getting to know yourself again. It feels like one day you've bumped into a person you once knew inside out, but have lost touch with. Except that person is yourself. Life after depression, and life whilst coming out of it, is like having a big long catch up with yourself. Remembering all the things you once loved, what kind of a person you are when you're not lost in a void. It's exciting and new. And yet it is incredibly terrifying to realise how much of myself I had forgotten and ignored.

And that's where I am now. I'm not drowning in the big void, but rather paddling at the edges of it. I can breathe again. The void was not pretty, and whilst I accept that I might end up floating around in the middle again at some point, it's really damn good to just dangle my toes in the water and sit on the grass bank. And there is not a big and empty hole in the middle of my chest everyday. The weight of the world is not on my shoulders any longer and it feels good.  I've been realising that I had completely forgotten to take care of myself, and to do the things that I loved. It has truly astounded me.

In a way, depression felt like an out of body experience. And I am only just checking back in.

I don't know if I'd say I wasn't depressed anymore. I think it still lingers. But I am, very slowly, coming out of it. I am recovering every day. I'm finally ready to talk about things that I couldn't stand to think about a few months ago. I am ready to be brave, at long last. It's strange to me now that I am able to get up and out of bed most mornings without crying, overthinking or lingering for a couple of hours. I can now sit in my bed in the middle of the day and know that it is not because I am depressed.

Okay, I'll admit that I still have panic attacks. And I am still anxious a lot of the time. I still apologise quite a bit (as pointed out by my best friend). My mood still changes pretty rapidly and I still let a lot of things get to me. But I know how to handle these episodes now, and I am getting better at self soothing. I've put on a stone in weight, because I am eating regularly now. And I'm reading again, I'm talking to people, and sleeping more.

Four to five months ago, I wanted to die. I'll admit that. Now, for the first time in my life I have bumped into myself on the street again and I'm not repulsed by what I have found. Steph, post depression, is brighter. Her hair is purple, and she has put weight on. She looks healthy and she has so so much to say. I've realised that I cannot go backwards. I can't go back to the me that I was before I slipped and fell into depression. That ship has sailed, I'm afraid. And in truth, I can't remember what that time of life was like. It seems as though depression has either taken those memories too, or has perhaps always overshadowed my life. I wasn't ready to talk, or to accept help, or to admit that there was something wrong. Instead I have accepted that the person I am now is, essentially, someone that I have never known before. She is new to me, and I am learning to walk in her shoes. They are slightly bigger, but they're very pretty.

I'm not going to sit here and preach about self love, and how that can help. Whilst that's true, I know that until recently I wasn't ready to love and be kind to myself. I didn't know how to, and I just didn't want to. I felt unworthy of any kind of love, especially love that came from within. A lecturer of mine often tells me to ride things like spells of anxiety, and panic out. To simply accept that they are happening, and go with it. But to talk about it. And I'll sit in the office with him, or sit with my best friend, or call my mom. Just to talk about the things that are going around in my head. The only piece of advice I will give here, is to try not to bottle things up. Sharing is good, but only if you feel capable of it.

Forgiveness was a huge and important part of my recovery. Acceptance, too. Accepting that I was depressed, and forgiving myself for it. It was not my fault. I've accepted that I have not always made good choices, and forgiven myself for those too. I've forgiven myself for errors of judgement. For all of the hours I have wasted being silent, and not defending myself. For allowing other people to hurt me. And for all of the harm I have done to myself, as well as other people. There are a lot of things I needed to think about, and forgive myself for. I'm ready to do that now.

I hope that you are all having good weeks, and being kind to yourself.

S