It’s a hidden illness that screws you over in more ways than one. When I was first diagnosed with depression, I was embarrassed and scared as it’s not something that was spoken about freely and without stereotypical views. My family were amazing and supportive but I couldn’t see any future for myself.
I hated myself, I hated my body, I hated everything about me.
The first month or two of taking my medication, the suicidal thoughts worsened and so did the sleep deprivation but I carried on pretending I was doing better. I remember being awake sitting crying at my living room window and not understanding why.
Why was I like this when my life was so good?
I had a supportive family, a good relationship, my own home and a job I liked. I just couldn’t get my head around why I felt so shit.
It’s taken me a long time to get to where I am now. Being medicated is something I’ve had to accept. I have a chemical imbalance where I require the medication to keep my mind balanced. I accept this and I accept that I don’t need to put on a front and pretend my life is brilliant and that I’m doing OK. I just need to be honest and be me. My depression doesn’t control me, I control it.
I now have my own home, my own car, a supportive boyfriend, a supportive family, a gorgeous puppy and an amazing job working in the mental health sector which I love.
I love that I can help others come back from that dark pit where they can’t see forward or any way out, to realise that they are enough, they are amazing and that they are worth my time and care.
Depression is an illness, but it won’t control my life.