Depression for Me

I probably won’t post this much in one day going forward but I guess at the moment I have time at it is at the forefront of my mind.

So I’ve already listed a few things but at the moment my core issue is my depression and the effect it is having on my work life and private life. I don’t know what depression feels like for other people but I’ve seen similar descriptions out and about.

What it feels like to me:

  • I want to cry… I can’t tell you why.
  • I just feel upset… I can’t tell you why.
  • I am angry at everything… I can’t justify it.
  • The thought of one more morning getting up and going to work makes me want to never get out of bed again.
  • I don’t want to look out the window… look at the news… ask how my friends are doing… encase it isn’t good news.
  • I have to work up to seeing my friends because I just know I’ll say something stupid, look like an idiot, say the wrong thing and upset someone, bring everyone else down with me… the list goes on.
  • Sometimes I just vague out and find it hard to focus on the things going around me, doesn’t matter who it is or where I am, I’ve just gone away for a bit.
  • I’m just an ugly noisy nuisance bumbling through life making everyone’s life harder.

What I want to do sometimes:

  • Stay in bed and not get out
  • Breakdown in a noticeable way so I can stop hiding it
  • Have an accident so I have an excuse to just stop
  • Leave my friends alone so they don’t have to put up with me
  • Scream and hit things
  • Just sit and cry without explaining it to anyone

What I won’t do:

There are some depths my brain hasn’t gone to yet though sometimes I wonder how I’ve kept out of that red zone. I’ve been congratulated for this in the past by other people struggling but it hardly feels like an achievement when I look at the list above.

  • I’ve never considered suicide
  • I’ve never cut myself

I maybe got close to the second in the last few weeks, I was on the edge of an anxiety attack and to distract myself I started pressing a screwdriver into my leg hard enough to hurt but not do damage. The shock of what I was doing actually gave me the break point where I knew I wasn’t coming back from it and found a safe place to have my anxiety attack.

What I do instead:

  • I get up, because what else can I do?
  • I go to work, because I need the money.
  • I hide away my anxiety attacks and cry in a private place (the people I trust know where this is).
  • I’ll make a joke or make light of something to deflect attention away, not always in a pleasant manner (i’m sorry if you’ve been on the back end of this).
  • I know I snap at people, I have anger management issues too, normally its things I would never say to someone. I despise hurting people but at our lowest all we want is to take the light of us.

There will be more than what I have put down here right now, some things slip the mind until they happen again. Eventually I want all this to go away but it is going to be a long hard journey… hell its already been 13 years even though I may have only realised this wasn’t a normal way to feel 5/6 years ago.

I think the start of this darkness was coming against death the first time in my life, I lost one of the people I cared for most when my grandmother died when I was 16. It made a lot of life’s dark places so much more real to me. I was hit again when I lost my aunt just a few years later. My final break point for going onto anti-depressants was my father-in-law getting diagnosed with cancer, I thank god he made it through and in remission but the effects will never go away again.

These events amongst others opened me up to a level of empathy which is both constructive and destructive for me. It means I can pick up on other peoples feelings to help them (although do I really, or do I just impose what I think they are feeling?). It also means I take a lot of other peoples pain into myself, even imaginary ones. I’ve cried and gotten upset over news stories, watching films or even anime. I have noticed a correlation between my levels of depression and how sensitive I am to this. Deaths in fiction never bothered me until I lost someone myself.

Well, that’s it for now I think.

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