I. Am. Depressed.

The moment I realised it was a problem may have been a bit too late. Maybe it was 6 years too late, or maybe it can never be too late. I'm not entirely sure. But at least I realised, I guess. I am depressed. Not just a little bit sad, not unhappy about a few things. I. Am. Depressed.

I guess this is nothing new. I'm not the first, I won't be the last, I am no more important than anyone else who suffers or anyone who doesn't. I am me. As painful and as trying as that is, it's not always who I want to be, I wish I could escape and feel "normal" or even super human. If only I was Batman...

I try to be as honest as I possibly can and that includes talking about my depression. It isn't a source of embarrassment to me, in fact, the more people who know about it, the easier it is. You don't have to pretend, you can tell someone that today is not a good day - it really does help. But I wonder when that sympathy runs out. Maybe sympathy isn't the right word... understanding? Kindness? The fact is, people soon become bored of your ailments; physical or otherwise, so where do you turn to then?

I am becoming increasingly aware that unless someone has a solid understanding (and let's face it, this comes from personal experience) then they are quick to dismiss or try to explain away your feelings: "Maybe you're working too hard" or to suggest a cure: "You should get more sleep"

My personal favourite advice from Horrible Histories

Having been up and down for as long as I can remember, I am starting to wonder what I can do to "GET BETTER!" The first step I took on this road was to phone my GP for an appointment. You may or may not realise how hard this is. It took me 6 years. I mean, to muster up the courage, not that it was an insanely long waiting time for an appointment.

One Sunday in November last year, I left my house and I was completely unsure if I would be going back. I walked down to a bridge over the railway and watched the trains coming and going and more than anything, at that point, I wanted to step in front of one. This may not be what people want to hear, but as I said - I try to be as honest as I can. Something took me away from the train tracks and I wandered into town. I don't remember the walk, I know that I was crying and it was cold. I went to the park and I sat at a place that had a lot of meaning to me and all I know is that I sat there, crying for hours. Many people walked past me, but no one came over to me. I was grateful for that at the time.

I didn't know what to do.

Then I got a message from someone who was everything to me. He told me it was ok. He told me to go home, have a cup of tea. But I couldn't move. Yet something had broken the spell. I knew I could get up and go home, eventually. I sat in the cold for longer than anyone should and then I picked myself up and went for that cup of tea. The next day I made the phone call.

I had hoped that it would be an amazing cure, that whatever I was prescribed would make me feel like a "normal" person, but life isn't that easy. After the weeks of blurred vision, constant shakes and insufferable teeth chattering, I wasn't sure that things were any better. But I rode it out and slowly but surely, changes started to creep in. I noticed that my anxiety had decreased, I was starting to sleep for longer, I was feeling so much more sociable. Maybe things were looking up.

But that's not how this works.

Things come crashing down around you so quickly it is pretty much just like having the rug pulled out from under you. Each bad day or bad week knocks your confidence, makes you feel silly for even letting yourself think that you could be happy. It pushes your relationships to their limit and makes you question everything. Your brain is boss and it wants to remind you of this. It doesn't give you a heads up (no pun intended) "Hey, just letting you know that tomorrow will be a shit day, ok?" It can switch in a matter of seconds without any warning.

This makes me difficult to live with. In fairness, I am a bit of an annoying person anyway, so I salute anyone who can put up with me on a standard day, nevermind when I am at my lowest. It isn't easy to live with sadness, whether it is your own or someone else's. It's frustrating, contagious and hard to escape from. Having someone who can stand by your side, hold your hand and just let you know that it will be ok has been better for me than any CBT, forum or self help book. Sometimes a hug can help more than you could know.

So... why am I writing this? Today hasn't been great. Despite having a lovely day with good company, my brain is a mess. I am struggling. But once again I made a choice: start writing, get it out of my head. Even if I am the only person who ever reads this, that's ok because it helped me. It distracted my brain, it gave it a purpose. Not every day will be bad.

Anyway, I guess I should go and "Get more sleep". Batman didn't get where he is today without a good 8 hours a night...