It’s fair to say that I’m taking a little time to work on myself at the moment. Nothing cosmetic, despite what people think would be my problem. I’m just working on myself, I’ve had a tough couple of years. A job that stressed me to the point of serious anxiety, money (we all know that song) and my writing. Nothing was going well, I wasn’t happy and it felt like there was this massive weight on my shoulders, several if I’m honest. For me, it’s always been a battle to be strong, to push through and think about the people that have it far worse than I ever have. But there comes a time when you have to start making improvements for yourself, everyone’s bad can be worse or less than everyone else’s and it’s important to realise that if it’s bad, it’s not comparable.
You have your own back
So I got a new job, which I love for the record, colleagues who don’t bully me and a large chunk of extra money. What’s even better is that they respect me, that’s kind of a new feeling for me. So there’s two, the job and that brought money…the anxiety didn’t go away… If anything, I got worse and over the last four months or so I’ve felt like that weight has increased. I don’t know if you’ve ever been depressed, or had anxiety, but it’s tough. Every day is a struggle, people think you’re out of breath because you’re unfit. Nobody hears your struggle for breath and relates it to a struggle for control of your own body. So for me, it went under the radar with most people in my life. And it just got worse. By last month, my fuses were so frazzled, they’d blow in any small argument and I’d lose it to the point where I didn’t remember things I’d said or done. So I went to the doctor, the wonderful doctor I’ve seem since I was a teenager in counselling. After 15 years of managing my issues, she decided it was time to medicate them. She told me to be proud of what I’d achieved without pills, how I’d gotten on in life and then she prescribed me Anti-Depressants. I wanted them badly for a while, but the reality was I was ashamed. That I couldn’t conquer it myself. That I was one of those people who relies on drugs. That I was depressed.
Here’s the reality: depression is common and in a world where we are constantly struggling to make ends meet, maintain a healthy lifestyle and fail at it, depression is inevitable.
So even though I’ve told most people it’s new anxiety medicine, it’s not. I’m depressed, except three weeks in, I’m starting to feel different. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not whistling with the swallows that nest above my window, while dreaming for my prince to come. I’m still just me, but I feel better, I’m getting better and one day soon, I’ll be better.
There’s people who were once incredibly close in my life, whose posts on Facebook and the small conversations I have with them, hurt me and depress me. These are people I loved immensely who seemingly gave up on me and they don’t know about my struggle because I feel like a disappointing inconvenience to them. Good news is, they won’t even read this and will carry on regardless.
Meanwhile, I’m going to write again. Despite my jealousy of all my author friends who have legitimate fans and actually sell books. Which before medication, felt like a crushing blow to my self worth, I can now see that if they can do it. Why can’t I?