One year and 4 months ago I started therapy.
| never give up trying |
I was diagnosed with severe Depression and anxiety and just in this last I remember my parents trying to convince me to even go outside I refused and now here's me going to parties, completing my studies and planning a trip by myself. A lot of days I had to force myself to put some make up on, do my hair and put a smile on. But I felt like I was dying from the inside. I didn’t want to be alive; I wanted the earth to swallow me up.
Late last year I remember being told that therapy was unsuccessful for me. At the time I didn’t want to try. In the depth of my illness I didn't want to get better, I wanted nothing else but death but my anxiety. I remember my best friend of so many occasions sitting by a suicidal version of me because my parents were at odds end. I remember having to admit to professionals that I had started collect pills by my bedside and taking tablets for no reason. I remember my parents have to be called in and being told not to let me out of sight.
That was the reality of what used to be my Health. But my physical health was comprised from depression to. I could go days without brushing my hair or teeth. I used to take a piece of metal to my skin because that was the only relief I used to get.
But after my 17th birthday I was looking at the photos of myself. I couldn’t of looked more unhappy and ill and I just thought to myself what am I doing to myself. I agreed to go on medication; I started being more honest about how I felt. I wanted to choose to live again. I began a new life; I went vegetarian on the 1st November 2016, I cut my hair in August 2017, I’ve completed my gruelling walk in the middle of nowhere with my friends for days, I got my second job on the 2nd September.
But on the 8th November I will be discharged from Mental Health services.
Next year I hope to be working in America for a few months, I hope to be a full time journalist.
I’m still ill and I have a new diagnosis of being emotionally unstable but i remember just a year ago i was told that depression is incurable and the odd of recovery was so low.
But i beat the odds.
I never once was rushed to hospital. I never had daily therapy. I didn’t ever fully attempt suicide. But that never meant I was never seriously ill.
Like hundreds of others I sat there alone crying in bed pills in hand. But sometimes it’s forgotten that living is the harder option that death. Suicide is a heart-breaking subject. The only way in which I can describe wanting to die but not being able to for so many reasons is like skipping straight to the aftermath of a suicide attempt
.
The grief, the pain of still being alive. The loneliness and it all goes unrecognized. We are seen a heroic and brave for putting our weapons down and choosing to live but it’s just as hard and somewhat humiliating.
Yet months later I’m standing here openly talking about everything I’ve faced and proving to myself that my struggles have only built be up to be the person I now am.
Some days I take time out, to take back control of my health when I feel it slipping. For when my mood changes to be able to keep myself safe and wait it out to the next day or the next months.
But I now am doing things I would have once dared to do, and I know I say this lot but depression recovery is still something that’s so misunderstood. It’s not just going from typing depression into google images yesterday and today looking at positive quotes. It’s not going from tears to smiling and partying all the time.
I’ve experienced it to be having to survive when I most wanted to die. To have to freely pull myself out of bed, to remember to keep myself hydrated and nourished. To be able to talk about your feelings when you can’t find the words to.
It’s hard, it’s tiring and some days even know I still crash out even if I’m with my friends or at work. I think to myself why I am trying to achieve the impossible. But it is possible, it’s rewarding and its beautiful to be able to live the moments you thought you would never had.
However on a completely separate note many of you have asked if you could read some of my epq (basically a 5000 word essay that took forever doing) know that I’ve finally finished it and did my presentation in which was emotional to have to explain the harsh reality of anorexia but here’s a little extract, however do get in contact if your interested in reading the entire thing. In the end my question was: To what extent does social media such as Instagram and Tumblr contribute to eating disorders such as anorexia in western culture?
But where does it stop, where does being ‘skinny ‘have its limits? On your death bed with your organs failing due to eating disorders such as Anorexia? With thousands being bought up with a phone or tablet in their hand, nieve to the dangers social media can bring to our physical health many admit they even have a problem because it’s all we know how to do. Consequently, many view Anorexia Nervosa as an illness in which you can take full control of your body. You can decide what you put inside your body, you can decide your goal weight, you can decide your own perception of what can be classed as ‘fat’ and ‘skinny’. We can’t control the fact we exist or what our features are like but we can change them. In western culture many are fixated upon following the current trends from skinny jeans to unique haircuts. Many view being ‘ultra-skinny’ as a trend and something of beauty. This illness itself is even now glamorised. Is it within our morals to follow such a trend? Even at the age of 40 there are celebrities like Madonna, Sharon Stone and Teri Hatcher looking flawless, fabulous and with seemingly perfect lives. Ordinary women compare themselves and feel that they've failed. Some women are particularly vulnerable because they are so driven to be the perfect wife, mother and career girl. The only thing they feel in control of is their eating, and that's how problems can start. How refreshing would it be to see pictures of a celebrity's house with toys strewn across the floor, last night's dinner pots still unwashed in the sink and a pile of ironing waiting to be done? However it's also in the female psyche to want to be good at everything we do. But that perfect domestic, sexual and career goddess that we all aspire to be simply doesn't exist.
