I’m battling Depression: My Experience

About the 'My Experience' series: http://www.ueadrop.co.uk/en/photos/breaking-news/2012-05-02/1171/the-my-experience-series.html 

ANONYMOUS

I'm coming to the end of my counselling sessions. Just even thinking about them makes me want to cry. They may be difficult and upsetting at times but I don't know what I'd be doing without them. Before I started these sessions, I'd spent half a year thinking I was just going through a rough patch and that I'd feel better soon.

For that time, when I was with my family or friends I'd hide my feelings. I pretended I was fine. Brave face and that. Keeping myself busy with other people helped distract me. But when I was on my own I felt like I was on repeat. It was the same thoughts, memories and flashbacks going through my head again and again. Painful memories of a relationship breakdown that I wish had never happened. They still visit me in my dreams. Just staring at this computer screen with that written down makes me feel sick, brings it all back. I'm scared of writing this down. I don't want anyone to know because if people find out they'll call me crazy or think I'm mental.

I'd got half way through my degree and was doing well. My grades were high, I had some friends and I was in a relationship with someone I was in love with. Around January of second year it all fell apart. For reasons I'm not entirely certain of and can't explain, my relationship ended. I felt like I'd lost everything that mattered so much to me. I had no closure and I became fixated on why this had happened. I kept phoning my ex partner just asking why this had happened, emailing and texting. I just wanted to know why. But I was ignored, blocked and probably forgotten about. Being away from my family and a death of a close relative just made it all seem so much worse. The sense of loss was overwhelming.

I couldn't stop thinking about it because I didn't have any answers. No matter how mean, cruel or completely random the reason was, nothing was worse than not knowing. It drove me in circles and took over my thoughts to the point where that was all I could think about. I needed a way out and alcohol was what I found.

Drinking so much that I'd pass out in bed at night became a much better option than lying there, thinking, trying to find that bit of sleep. That became my routine. Day after day, week after week. Thinking was the last thing I wanted to do. I started ignoring everything. I didn't care about anything. My work deadlines, lectures, seminars and bills, other people. None of it mattered. I was all on my own, away from my family, with little money and so much work to do with these thoughts taking over my life.

Drink made it all go away and all the bad things were happening to someone else.

I could go on about how this went on for what seems like forever but I'll skip the nasty details of self harm and suicidal thoughts and move on to the day when someone asked if I was OK. I'd much rather focus on that. Not the kind of bland "you alright?" but the take you to one side look into your eyes "you're not OK, are you?" type.

That bit has made me cry. That I'd let it get that bad. That somebody cared, somebody saw the signs. That kind of half smile when you laugh at a joke that wasn't really funny. The greasy hair and stubbly beard from not showering or shaving. Bitten fingernails. Tired eyes. Always, always buying more alcohol. Withdrawn. Avoiding eye contact. Staring at the ground, the wall, my shoes, my drink. Wanting to be there but acting like I was somewhere else.

I tried to brush it off and say I was OK just a bit tired. But that was the point that a realised I was in trouble and I really needed help.

The phrase "sort my life out" is used a lot by students. Usually reserved for doing laundry, completing the last 200 words of an essay or doing some food shopping. Sorting my life out seemed a lot harder than that but I'd come to realise that things wouldn't get better unless I picked myself up.

This was so personal I didn't want anyone to know. I was sure they'd think I was crazy but I decided to give talking about it a shot because I was starting to realise that this was taking over my life. I saw my advisor first. Anyone would have done. I thought no one would help me, that no one cared. I often wondered if I jumped under that truck or off that bridge if anyone would care.

But I'm still here. I'm going to counselling, I'm focusing as much as I can on my exams. I'm caught up on rent, on bills. I'm looking around my room, I'm not seeing the empty vodka bottles, crushed beer cans on the floor anymore. It's lots of soft drink bottles now. Yeah I might have missed a few counselling sessions when I 'lapsed but overall I'm looking forward to going into my fourth year and my recently acquired internship. Looking forward to something is a nice break from looking into the past and wishing you were still there.

I'm nowhere close to being "better". I'm still struggling. But I've got some help now. It's helped me to see that maybe I'll never know why my relationship ended. Maybe there was no reason. Maybe that's OK. Accepting it is hard, moving on is harder. Running away and hiding from it all still seems easier. But I now know that is the worst thing I could do. Talking to someone is tough. It's worth doing though, talking to someone helps take it out of your head.

I wouldn't wish what happened to me on anyone.

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