adoubleshotdepresso

[adoubleshotdepresso]

Sometimes it’s more than “just a little bit sad.”

I’m usually pretty good at coming up with some kind of witty or humorous introduction to my writing, even when the subjects can be pretty serious, and not exactly jolly, but the last couple of months have definitely been some of the darkest days of my entire existence, so I thought it would be the perfect time to have a chat about depression. I’m not talking about the occasionally sad day, when the weather is miserable, nothing is going right and you woke up too late to get yourself a Masai White Chocolate Mocha, I’m talking about the type of sadness that easily overwhelms your entire existence, and soon takes control of your life.

Hi, hello, welcome to the show. As a lot of you may know, I suffer pretty horribly from mental illness, in particular, depression. And it’s something I’ve had to deal with since I was around 14 years old. I just turned 27, so I have spent quite a large proportion of my life sad and miserable, which is about as fun as it sounds. Just joking. None of it’s fun, not one part of it to come to think of it. Which doesn’t mean I’m an actual professional, but speaking from experience I’m pretty knowledgeable of how this disease can affect your life, and everyone in it.

Hold onto your Kleenex, grab a hold of a pet and get comfy, because unfortunately this isn’t going to be great, or uplifting, and if you’re expecting some type of happy ending, I’m sorry but you’re going to be disappointed, because even though I try damn hard every day to get through it, I still haven’t found peace with myself, or the disease I will probably have to live with for the rest of my life.

Let’s take a stroll down memory lane to where it all began. Or where I first noticed I may have been struggling with a mental illness. I was teenager, and still a kid in my opinion. I was bullied a fair bit, mostly when I was in Grade 8, which would have made me about 13 years old. It wasn’t anything significant, just the generalised bullying most teenage girls know of, and I mean, I’m sure it didn’t help my pending depressive disorder, I’m nearly positive I still would have ended up in the same boat even if I wasn’t bullied at all.

But then there were DRAGONS. Just kidding, I needed some comic relief. Thanks Colin, for the reminder.

Because I was a hormonal teenager when all of this started, everyone (including myself) thought it was just the regular “she’s just being an asshole teenager” type of moods, but once I hit the age of 17 or 18, we began to realise it was probably something more than just “growing up”. After already a few years of having to deal with mental illness without actually knowing I had it, my mum took me to my regular General Practitioner and we had a chat about my general behaviour and moods. I had to do a Mental Health Plan, which is basically a whole bunch of questions, like “how often do you feel sad, or get teary for no reason”, and you had to answer “None of the time to all of the time”, and that basically tells Medicare if you need funded psychology treatment.

If you’ve never been to a psychologist, it sucks. I hate every moment I have to be in their shitty office, sitting on their shitty chairs all while having to listen to their shitty advice. I’m sure some psychologists are great and manage to help their patience live their lives to the fullest, but all of mine so far have been basically useless. It’s hard enough for me to open up my feelings to complete strangers, let alone relate to anything that they’re saying. I know a whole bunch of people who go see therapist regularly and find it really helpful, and even though I don’t have anything great to say about them right now, I would highly recommend going to see one if you feel like you may be developing or experiencing some type of mental illness. It doesn’t have to be a negative experience, and who knows, my next doctor might be the answer to all my questions.

Now you know the background, I’m going to tell you how it really feels to be depressed. Which comes in stages, so we’re going to treat this sort of like a really sad and gross cake recipe.

Step 1: I can feel it coming a mile away. So you think I would know what to do by now, since I have the ability to recognise all the signs. But I see it coming, and it still hits me by surprise every fucking time. I start to slowly isolate myself from my friends and family, and just tell everyone I’m feeling “under the weather”. Which isn’t exactly a downright lie, but it’s not the whole truth either. I start not wanting to talk to people, which is unlike myself, and begin to spend a lot of time at home, mostly in my room in bed. And that’s when the overthinking begins.

Step 2: I’ll get home from work one night, have a shower, go to bed and  stay there for the next several days. I will only get up to eat, drink and to look after my pets. And sometimes when things are really dark, it’s even hard for me to do that. I start missing out on days at work, because the thought of leaving the safety of my own house is horrifying. Even though I’ve been living a somewhat normal life, the thought of what’s outside is enough to make me call in sick, and not leave my bed for days, even weeks at a time. To others, this may seem like pure laziness. That I don’t want to go to work and earn my keep, to have the freedom of a healthy wage, to see the people who make me the happiest. But it’s not laziness. It’s impossible. That’s what it is. Depression makes every day living impossible.

It gets harder and harder to keep going. And sometimes it feels easier to just give up, and that’s where step 3 comes in.

Step 3: Overthinking. Exhaustion. Paranoia. Three things that should probably never go together. Those things alone are enough to push some people to the edge, but you mash them all together and you have yourself one heck of a party. I think everyone who suffers from any type of mental illness knows what it feels like to overthink everything. Whether that’s your position at work, the integrity of the relationships in your life or even small and stupid things, such as, “I don’t think my dog loves me anymore”. I start to overthink everything, and suddenly things that were totally insignificant suddenly become super important.

I start to question if I’m a good person or not, and start to tell myself, maybe I deserve to feel like this, because if I was actually a decent person, I wouldn’t have these feelings. I look back at how I’ve treated people in the past, and wonder if I was a better friend, maybe I would feel less alone going through all of this, and I think for me, that’s my biggest downfall. I tell myself I deserve to be suffering every day, and no one actually gives a damn if I am, and it’s hard for people to help you when you can’t even help yourself.

Exhaustion basically comes in a “buy one get one free” type of deal, and it’s a damn vicious cycle to be in. You stress about every day living, and that makes you wide awake even at 4 in the morning. And then the next day, you’re even more tired, which makes you feel more stressed. To be honest, if I got enough sleep every night for the rest of my life, I feel like I would be able to cope a whole lot better. At the moment, I’m only getting a few hours of interrupted sleep every night, with waking up super early in the morning, and not being able to go back to sleep. Take into consideration I already take two different types of medication to aid with my sleep, but even that isn’t enough to keep me asleep the last couple of months.

Being exhausted makes life really difficult, especially when you work in a 24 hour, 7 days a week call centre for a somewhat prestigious and successful financial institution. No matter what I do, no matter the medication I take, nothing can help me sleep. I even shut off all my electronic devices, listen to audiobooks, yoga and medication and all the advice from professionals, sleep still evades me. The best “cure” for chronic insomnia I have found, is intense and consistent workouts throughout the day. A couple of nights ago I slept the best in a few months, and all it took was over an hour of tennis with no breaks, with leg day just before shower and bed. But working full time hours, on a rotating and every-changing roster, this is not always possible. So, I’m sort of left with doing the best I can with what I have, and that’s still kind of shit. Unfortunately I don’t have an answer for this solution as I still have not found a remedy for insomnia, even after suffering for more than 3 years. I promise to keep you posted if there’s ever a cure for this rubbish.

And then eventually comes paranoia. Once you’re sleep deprived, and been over thinking everything for a few weeks, you start to become paranoid. Nothing is what it seems, and no matter what people tell you, you just think they’re lying. There’s not much else to say about paranoia, as I’m sure you all know the broad definition. I would never wish that upon anything.

Step 4: Nearly the hardest part I’ll ever have to deal with. Self harm. Self mutilation. Basically physically hurting your own self, because your brain tells you too. I first started hurting myself when I was teenager. I used to buy those silver pencil sharpeners by the kilo, take out the blade and cut my wrists. Nothing to cause any type of actual harm, but any type of self self should be taken seriously, and investigated, no matter how stupid or in-effective it may be. They may not have been deep enough to be hospitalised or anything, but I do have several scars along my wrists that remind me every day of where I’ve come from.

As I got older though, these self harm habits became slightly more serious. I stopped cutting myself, as it was pretty inconvenient, and didn’t really hurt that much as an adult, so I began extinguishing my own cigarettes on my skin. This hurts a lot. And not only just for a little while, but for days after. Sometimes I’d hold the butt of the cigarette to my skin for so long, my skin would melt onto the cig. It caused infections, and severe bubbling, which looked like a blister that was filled with gross stuff. These scars will remain with me forever. They go from the very base of my wrist, all up the inside of my left forearm. These scars are the ones I am most ashamed of. For some reason, these scars represent my mental illness, and it is something I have to look at every day, and will do forever.

Along the same wrist, I have the word ‘strength’ tattooed there, to remind me when I see the scars, to always be strong, and if I can get through those times, then I can maybe keep doing it again.

I don’t struggle with that type of self harm anymore, but as I got older and began to take different types of prescription medication, I began to somewhat overdose on my tablets every now and then, not to actually kill myself, but to cause some type of pain in my body. It also helps me sleep away the days when I already haven’t slept for days at a time. I would still consider this as self harm, as you are deliberately doing harm to your soul, and your body. More than once, these acts of stupidness have ended up in hospital. Both times I had to stay overnight, get my heart monitored regularly, and then forced to go see a psychologist for wanting to harm myself.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, not all self harm are cuts and scars. Sometimes self harm can go unnoticed, and people have their ways of hiding it very well even from the closest to themselves. If you think your loved one is self harming in any way, I would advise to gently ask them about it, and get them to start talking about if they have any thoughts about doing harm to themselves. Don’t downright accuse of someone of self harming, as this does not go down well, trust me. If you think their lives are in danger, please seek medical attention as soon as possible.

Step 5. Suicide.

I hate this, I hate typing it, I hate saying it, I hate reading it. I hate everything about this fucking word. Not only because it’s heartbreaking for people who lose their friends and family due to it, but also because I’ve tried it. More than once. And not a whole lot of people know this. The first time I tried to kill myself, I took a whole bunch of my medication, mixed it with alcohol, prayed to all the gods that I would gently fall asleep, and never wake up. It’s not glamorous. It’s not entertaining, and it’s not something I’m fucking proud of.

The next time was only a few weeks ago. Everything was okay, and then I clocked off at work, went for a walk, took a lift to the roof of a building, stood on the edge and was ready to jump off, and die. I was up there, I took my engagement ring off, I left my phone on the ledge, and stared down at the concrete, really contemplating if this was going to be high enough to really end my life. And you know what stopped me? The thought of having someone find my body, and what that might do to their life, stopped me from jumping. Even in wanting to die, I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone with my dead body.

It’s horrible, it’s selfish, but it is what it is, and I can’t take back those actions or erase that afternoon from my life. I didn’t leave a note, and I was just going to leave everyone behind. I’m one of the luckier ones I guess, in that I get to move on with my life and try to heal the wounds I created myself.

If one your friends or loved ones are talking about wanting to hurt themselves, and it doesn’t matter how, you need to be there for them no matter how hard it is on you, because I can guarantee it’s harder for them right now, and if you feel like you ever need support, please know there are actual decent humans out there who will care if you die, and will do nearly everything possible to save your life.

#depression mentalillness anxiety writing hardlife

[adoubleshotdepresso]

“Just think positive, it’ll be fine”

If I’m feeling generous enough to tell you how I’m really feeling, and you tell me to go get some fresh air and just think positive, please remember I may throw something at your head while cursing you and your whole entire family.

That might be a little extreme, but it’s probably the worst thing you could possibly say to someone who genuinely suffers from clinical depression. If it was as easy as thinking positive thoughts and getting a daily dose of fresh and sun, don’t you think there would be less depressed folk wondering the world? Trust me, I have tried absolutely everything in my power to cure my depressive disorder, but listen, it’s just not that easy.

Over the last decade of being depressed and occasionally anxious, I have tried just about every recommendation out there to help me get through my mental illness. If you’ve come here for a “12 unbelievable habits that cured my depression” type of article, you may as well take your matcha tea and go somewhere else. It took me many years to find what exactly helps my moods, and these things still haven’t cured my depression, but it makes my day to day life a little easier, because no one wants to deal with a constantly crying adult human, that’s not good for anyone.

Before we get into what I have to do every day to maintain a regular life, I think a lot of people still don’t understand what mental disorders are, so I’m going to tell you a brief explanation of mental disorders in the best way I can. Please remember I ain’t no doctor or therapist, and most of the stuff here is what I’ve personally experienced, and mostly what the Internet tells me. Grab a cuppa, and be prepared for some long words and personal opinions.

Fortunately, I don’t tend to suffer from anxiety on a regular basis, which I’m very damn thankful for. Occasionally, and to be honest I don’t know what triggers it, it can be nearly suffocating. Being anxious and being depressed often come hand in hand, like cookies and cream, and you’d be surprised how different both these disorder feels. One is not better than the other, and “what would you choose if you could” is a load of shit. Both are horrible, and both can kill you just as easily. If you want to know more, feel free to keep on reading, or it’s as easy as doing a quick Google search yourself. If you know anyone who suffers from mental illnesses, I would highly recommend doing a bit of study about these topics. It will help you understand what your loved one is going through and may even help them get back on their feet, or make them feel better anyway. We already feel like we’re alone and no one understands us. Just take five minutes of your time, and it could make all the difference in someone else’s lives.

Everyone knows what it feels like to be nervous about something. For me, it’s driving. For others it could be things as getting onto an airplane, public speaking or even large crowds. It may be as something simple as the dark or loud noises. For me, I can’t really tell you what gives me anxiety apart from driving and being in a car with someone I don’t know, but when I’m feeling super depressed, everything makes me damn anxious. “While stress and anxious feelings are a common response to a situation where we feel under pressure, they usually pass once the stressful situation has passed, or ‘stressor’ is removed”, according to beyondblue.com.

According to the same website (beyondblue.com), anxiety is the most common mental health disorder that Australian’s suffer from. Women tend to suffer more, but this doesn’t mean men can’t develop anxiety disorders either. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you eat or what you identify as, anyone can suffer from mental disorders, including high anxiety.  And it could look different from person to person as well, not everyone will show the same symptoms the same way, and not everyone will be able to overcome their anxiety the same way you or I might. Anxiety can voice itself in many different ways, and can start off super subtly, but then can slowly grow into something more obvious.

If you suffer from anxiety disorders, usually the sensation of anxiety or high pressure can stick around for long periods of time, sometimes up to days at a time, and not always connected to a stressful situation, or have any specific triggers. There are heaps of different symptoms, but here are the most common ones that I have suffered from. Having a racing heart and a quick pulse is something I suffer from on a general basis, this may come from too much caffeine, lack of sleep or just being depressed. That’s something I can’t control, and something people can’t physically see. Sometimes, when my heart is racing too fast, it can turn into a full blown panic attack. I’ve only had to experience a couple, and I’ve been lucky in that I have been in a safe place with people I trust.

It begins with a quickening of breathe, and since you’re already super upset and freaking out, the lack of oxygen going to your brain makes you feel groggy and weird. I have been so deep into a panic attack that the only way out of it, was to pass out. I know it’s not super ideal, but it’s the fastest way to regain normal breathing. One time, my anxiety got so bad, I refused to leave my house. I think it lasted something along the lines of three weeks. I felt an overwhelming sort of panic at even the thought of leaving my bedroom, where I knew I was safe, and I was familiar with my surroundings. Even if it was just going to the shops, where I knew what the go was, I still couldn’t handle leaving my house. I can’t explain this happened, and I haven’t experienced since, but it was damn awful.

I remember my first outting. It was to Bunnings. Basically my family and my partner bribed me out of the house, and you know what? It worked. And it wasn’t the worst thing they could have done. I put on some eyebrows, took a shower and went to buy some plants. I wouldn’t recommend blackmailing and bribing your friends to make them get out of bed, but we were starting to get desperate. The best advice I can give you? Just try and remind your friend, or loved one about their passions. And why it’s important to get out of the house. Even if it’s taking them shopping, going to their favourite restaurant or to see a movie. But it was hard, and even though the trip was probably no more than an hour long, I felt like I had just completed a triathlon. I came home, took my makeup off, had a shower and slept for the next 2 days.

That was probably the worst experience I’ve had with anxiety my whole entire life. I’ve always been a pretty outgoing person, and on a regular basis I have always liked meeting new people, and putting myself out there has never been hard. So when I experienced this anxiety attack, it was the weirdest feeling in the world. I had no idea what was happening to me, and I didn’t really know how to help myself out of it.

There’s also a handful of different types of anxiety someone can experience. The most common is probably General Anxiety Disorder, which just means generally, a person can feel anxious or nervous throughout the day for no particular reason, like it’s not caused by a particular event or moment. The next is Social Anxiety, which I think is also pretty common. It’s like having to do your first ever speech in front of a large group of people back in primary school, but worse because you’re not a child, and you’re only going to get bread and milk from the servo. I personally haven’t really experienced this type of anxiety, but I assume it just feels like everyone around you is constantly judging or criticising you when you’re out in public. I know a few people close to me who suffer from this particular disorder, and I can’t imagine how hard it is to just complete day to day chores.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder can fall under this category too. I feel very strongly about this particular illness, as I think it can be looked over very easily. People often joke about “Omg I’m so neat I must have OCD”. It’s not something to be joking about. I don’t suffer from the typical OCD, but I have began noticing as I got older some weird things that I do. For instance, I can’t just buy one of something. It’s not so much the crazy cleaning and the constant tidying or counting things, nothing like that. But I do have weird habits that only I’ve began to notice over the last few months. I’m always buying stuff I don’t need, and instead of buying 1 packet of pens, which is all one human would need, I need to buy 4 because who knows, I might really like these types of pens and it’s going to be the worst thing in the world if they run out and I can’t get anymore. Like that’s not normal thinking, and maybe that’s something I need to work on too.

The last type of anxiety I want to briefly talk about, (mostly because I don’t know enough about it, and I don’t want to accidentally insult or upset anyone) is PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Most of you have probably heard of PTSD, either from real life, or in the cinematic universe. PTSD is no joke, and I fear how many people this disorder kills every damn year. This is caused by a traumatic event in life, such as war, assault, disaster or accident. You can experience waves of emotions, such as restlessness, difficulty relaxing and even night terrors. You can experience flashbacks to the traumatic event and constantly be reminded of something you’re trying your hardest to forget.

Now we’ve got the “What is anxiety” out of the way, now to talk about how to treat your disorder. Now, please remember this is just general advice, and I’m speaking just out of experience. I’m only somewhat young, and still have plenty of learning to do myself, so take these words lightly, and don’t start yelling my advice from your rooftop, okay?

I loathe therapy. I can’t think of anything that makes me more mad and uncomfortable than going to see psychologist. I’ve been going to see shrinks for a few years now, and I have hated every second I’ve been in that damn chair. I really hate it. And that’s probably my own problem, because I’m sure it can help other people. It might be because I haven’t been able to find that “connection” with any of my therapists, or the fact that I have a large personality and I’m very opinionated. But if you’re struggling from mental health, I’d highly recommend trying it. I know a whole bunch of people who go and see specialists to help them manage their mental health, and I think if you are able to get that type of help, then do it.  I, personally, just hate it. I’m being ordered to go see one, and even the thought of having to be in those types of offices makes me want to rip my face off.

I don’t want to talk shit about therapists excessively, because I know they can help most people, but just make sure you do you research and find a doctor that suits your needs. Here in Australia, like to see most specialists you have to go and see your general practitioner and get a referral. If you’re applicable, they’ll do this questionnaire test while you’re at the GP’s office, and it will determine how anxious and depressed you are, and if you reach a certain number, then you’ll receive some type of Medicare rebate when you go to see your shrink. I don’t know how it works in other countries, but we are damn blessed here, knowing we have the availability to see psychologist at a reduced cost. Because DAMN they can be expensive.

Let’s be real. The thing that helps me the most is medication. I’ve been medicated for about 14 years now, and don’t see myself being off them probably forever. I know a lot of people out there are afraid of taking medication, and I totally understand. I was just a kid when I was told I needed to take certain medication, but I’m lucky as I come from a medical background, and my mum is a nurse. But if that’s what your doctor recommends, do your research and feel free to talk to people about it. That’s what doctors are there for. I was afraid they would make me become something I’m not, and was afraid I would not be able to feel anything, whether that was happy or uncontrollably sad. It took some trial and error, but I think for now the medication that I take is the right mix for me. Some people can be on just one, which I’m very envious of, but at the moment I currently take three different types of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications. I don’t want to go into detail about the medication, as I am not a doctor or pharmacist, but they do help. Because I take a concoction of tablets, I have to be super careful of something called Serotonin Syndrome, which can make you incredibly sick. I have been lucky, and I monitor my medications and my physical health very carefully.

I understand medication isn’t for everyone, just like therapy isn’t for me. It’s been rough trying to find the right combination that works well for me, and trialling new drugs for your mental health can be exhausting. A few that I have tried have definitely made my moods worse, and that’s the hardest thing to deal with. You think you’ll take this pill and all your bad thoughts will go away, but sometimes that’s not how it works. And that’s okay. If you don’t feel right when taking your new medication, it’s okay to speak about it. No one else knows your body better than you do, and if you feel like something is not quite right, it’s probably not right. In saying that, it is advised you try and hang out for a few months as your body adjusts to the new medication, but if you feel like you’re feeling worse, or you start having suicidal thoughts, please don’t feel like you have to put yourself through that. No doctor (no good doctor) will make you go through that.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, to wrap things up, it’s okay to be on medication. You’d be surprised how many people around you have to take medication. I take several just so I can get out of bed every morning. And if you don’t want to tell anyone, then you don’t have to. It’s really no one else’s business what you do with your own body, and as long as you’re safe and consenting, then it’s really no one else’s damn business.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help, you have countless resources available to you, and I promise there is help out there. You just have to find the courage to speak up and tell at least someone if you’re feeling down and depressed. It’s hard enough to deal with mental illnesses, let alone doing it alone.

[adoubleshotdepresso]

disclaimer:

I apologise for all the grammar and spelling errors. I’m not too concerned with the technical, it’s just a place where I can voice how I feel and my own opinions. 

[adoubleshotdepresso]

And so it began.

I saw the light, and decided to be born. Not really, but I assume that’s how it goes.

hi, hello, my name is Em. There’s a few more letters to the name, but all my friends call me Em, so I thought it was appropriate to introduce myself as that, to you, the reader, whoever you are and wherever the hell you may be.

I was born in 1993, in Busan, South Korea. And that’s basically all I know regarding where I’m from. I was put up for adoption, and my parents adopted me when I was 12 weeks old. I don’t really have much to say about my time abroad, mostly because I was an infant and don’t remember, but also because it doesn’t make me who I am, and has not had any influence on who I am today.

So, adoption hey. You’d be surprised how many people you know are actually adopted. I know a handful myself, and I think it’s a pretty amazing thing. The first question I always come across is; “Do you think you’ll ever want to go back?” And “do you miss or want to find your biological parents?”. And look, depending on the day and how I’m feeling, the answers may vary. Slightly. But realistically, the answer is absolutely not. I have the best family anyone could ever imagine, and my parents are my best friends. I have an older sister who was also adopted from South Korea, Seoul. She’s 6 years my senior and is also one of my best friends.

My family is tight, yo. And we’ve always been that way. My mum is the most dedicated person you will ever meet. She puts her heart and soul into absolutely everything she does. I might be completely biased here, but I’ve never met someone who loves her family so fiercely and would do absolutely everything possible to make sure we are happy and well. She’s always the first person I call when I feel myself go under. She’s a pretty great woman. I know I can always count on her to be there for me and my family no matter what, and one day I hope to repay everything she’s given to me.

I’m so lucky to have a father like mine. He has always supported my decisions and even though some of them have been dumb, he’s never judged me for them. I mean, I get the whole “I told you so” every now and then, but that’s understandable. When I first started having issues with my mental health, dad didn’t really understand what I was going through, as he never really grew up with it nor had any involvement in the area either. But as I got older he really made an effort to understand me more, and ended up being my biggest support beam in my adult life. He’s the sort of person who tells you “I’m just a message away” and actually means it. At my lowest times, it’s nice to know he’s always got my back.

I have one sibling, my oldest sister, who is YOU GUESSED IT, one of my best friends. Our relationship has not always been easy, and there have been times when we wanted to rip each others eyeballs out, but now we’re both a bit older and understand each other better, we couldn’t be closer than we are now. She moved overseas for a while, met the love of her life and married him while still living in America. I went over there a couple of times to visit her, and to be a part of her special day, She’s been back home for a couple of years now, and though we don’t see each other frequently, I know I can talk to her about my struggles too. She’s had her fair share of mental problems, and she still gets through every day, and for that, she’s my god damn hero.

Now we’ve gotten the introductions out of the way, lets get into it. My childhood was pretty normal to be honest. My parents both had stable jobs, weren’t addicts or assholes whatsoever, so we always had food, hot water and a sweet bed to sleep in. Between my parents and their parents, we always had somewhere to go and never had to use babysitters or after school care, which is pretty extraordinary.

Primary school was whatever. And that’s about it. Girls are assholes, and boys were the most fascinating thing in the world. It was average, nothing that bad happened, and nothing spectacular happened either. But shit got real when high school started. For the first year of high school I attended a fancy private all girls here in town, and that was honestly the worst. Not the worst of my life, but for “back then” Em, it was pretty damn bad. I dealt with the usually bullying thing, and I think that’s when all my problems started. Which is kind of crazy because I was probably only about 13 years old when I started to develop depression and anxiety disorders.

Not only did I lose trust in my “friends and peers”, I also lost faith in the teachers and the other adults who were supposed to be there for their students, and to protect them while on school grounds. Well, what a load of shit that was. After holding out for a year, my parents finally agreed I needed to move schools. I was accepted into another private school, but this time it was a co-ed school, and much smaller in size. All in all, it was a pretty good school, but unfortunately I was a very had teenager to please, and hated every single second I had to be there

I started skipping school, chucking sickies every week and avoiding homework, study and assignments. I found it very hard to concentrate, and because of the first year of high school education for myself was an absolute damn nightmare, I had zero interest in my education. I started smoking cigarettes and nicotine at some point in this time, and found it hilarious to drink until I vomited on myself. Looking back now, I should have realised it was something more than adolescent behaviour problems, but what kid goes, “wow, I’m extra cranky today, I must have clinical depression!”. So I kept on being an asshole to everyone around me, not caring about my studies and doing whatever the heck I wanted to do, which included going to parties, seeing boys and lying to my parents. I would tell them I’d be staying with a friend, but lets be real, I was really at a party, getting hammered and kissing lots of boys.

So, high school eventually came to an end. It felt like it was going for an eternity, but I look back now and I wonder where the time had gone. And I think that’s when I realised I was having some real mental health problems. I had a full time job at a chemist, and stayed there for many years, 10 to be exact. I loved my job for a very long time, and stayed there up until a couple of years ago. I don’t think it helped my mental stability, and close to where I resigned, I felt myself crying and having panic attacks in the back room of my work place. I wanted to call in sick every day, rather than go into work and have to face customers and certain staff. I wouldn’t blame work for what happened to me in the end, but I’m sure it didn’t really help either.

That brings us the last few years of my life. And did SHIT GET REAL, my friend. I’ve had the worst days of my life, but have also experienced some of the best. Some of the worst you say? How much time do you have? There’s been a few doozies, that’s for sure. I was in a relationship that started off beautiful, but ended up being the absolute downfall of my mental stability. So many things contributed to my depression, but I dare say the break up, and the loss of my grandmother definitely was the icing on the cake.

I’m not going to point fingers and blame someone else for what happened, but okay I am. The break up I experienced was enough for me to want to die. Literally. My grandma who I was very close with was dying, and my ex didn’t really care. We used to fight all the time, even at the beginning of our relationship, but it only got worse. And even evenB when I thought it wouldn’t get worse, it definitely did. I started drinking a lot, and abusing prescription medication, Valium mostly, but also some sleeping medication too. One day, I was feeling very low, and begged my ex to come back home. I told him every 10 minutes he didn’t respond to my calls or text, I’d take another pill. And I did. I also felt like it was necessary to extinguish cigarettes on myself. The physical pains of the burn was a welcoming distraction to the storm raging inside my head.

After that, it was all a blur. I overdosed a couple of times, some I was able to manage myself, but two more times to come I would need medical attention. The first time I was hospitalised, I called a bunch of friends for help because I thought I was about to die. I don’t remember making the call, and I hardly remember leaving my home in ambulance. Once I gained consciousness again, I was forced to go see a therapist even when I declined. And let’s just say, therapy is not my thing. I have tried again and again to go, and to find that connection with a therapist but never really got remotely close enough to ever trusting one.

The last few years have definitely had its up and downs. I bought a house a few years ago, the house my grandparents owned when I was growing up, and not long after I moved in, I met my parter. I had known him for a couple of years before we started seeing each other, and not long after that, I asked him to move in. It was only a few months into our relationship, but it felt right. You know when you know and I can’t really explain much more than that.

I’m not going to sit here and lie to you and say everything gets easier when you’re older, and your problems you experienced before seem to fade away, I’m here to tell you the truth what it’s like to live with a severe depressive and anxiety disorder. Not every day is easy, and sometimes, the bad days feel like they’re never going to end. It’s easy for some people to hop online, and talk about how easy it was to get out of their own heads, and all you have to do is look on the bright side of life.

Because no. It’s never as golden as what influencers try and tell you, and it’s definitely not as glamorous as you see and read online. Some of the worst days I have experienced have made me feel like there is no possible way out. So, hold onto your seatbelts, and grab your Kleenex, because shit is about to get real.