Journals: Good or Bad?

Journals: Good or Bad?

I saw something on television today about how keeping a journal is potentially harmful because it makes you stew in your own feelings and accept negative emotions rather than confronting them and changing it.  It was all about how writing about your feelings and emotions doesn’t actually affect them and that there is no advantages of writing about your misfortunes.  While I accept that opinion, I don’t agree with it.

I started writing in my first journal when I was 12 years old and I have every journal I’ve ever written in, saved on my bookshelf.  At first a journal was just a way for me to express my frustration and feelings during my teenage years and moaning about school and friends, talking about who I had a crush on and how I planned to make them marry me.  It was immature fun and it gave me an outlet, I didn’t have many friends as a teenager and my journal was in a way, my best friend.

As I got older my writing became more serious and reflective, it was about expressing feelings that I couldn’t express to people, talking about my worries and fears, and my dreams and hopes. I felt lighter and free after writing about my feelings, it made things easier for me.

Now, reading back through my journals has proved really useful, not only does it remind me of little happy moments I’d forgot about, it showed me how depression entered my life.  I was diagnosed with depression at 18 and I’d always believed that it had started at 16 after my parents divorce and after I’d been through some bullying.  Looking back at my journals though, I can see now that it affected me long before I realised.  When I was 13 years old, I wrote about killing myself for the first time and periodically after that, I mention not wanting to live and wanting to give up on life.  I wrote more often between the ages of or 12 and 15, and it was all very depressing and now I’ve come to identify my depressive behaviour, I can see that I was depressed long before I realised.  It wasn’t just normal teenage hormones and mood swings, it was a constant feeling of darkness and I described it in my journals as this blackness inside me, that tried to ruin any happiness, I wrote about not enjoying life and feeling not well.

Reading back has helped me, it’s showed me that my depression isn’t because of my parents divorce or being bullied, it doesn’t come from a negative or traumatic experience, it just is.  I didn’t believe in depression as a biological illness, I always thought it was triggered by trauma and I felt guilty for having depression when I knew that some people had experiences a loss worse than mine, people have it a lot worse than me.  Now I think that maybe depression was just always there in me, maybe I don’t have to feel guilty about feeling the way I do when I have so many good things in my life.

Reading back through my journals has also helped me understand where my anxiety stems from, I was always a shy child and I preferred books to people and I enjoyed learning new things, which made me different to other kids and kids can be cruel to someone who is different.  I let classmates walk all over me, I let them say mean things and laugh at me, and I did it because I wanted to fit in.  I tried to follow the trends and change myself to be more like my peers but it never worked, I was always still singled out and it caused me to sink into myself and choose to avoid rather than confront.  I started to run away from situations instead of standing up for myself and that’s why my anxiety has come to be as bad as it is.  One of the things that stands out most to me in my journals is the days I would fake being ill to get out of school because there was a presentation that day or a group project and I was terrified of being humiliated so I did whatever I had to do to fake sickness and get the day off.  I wish that I could go back now and just face my fears because by avoiding them, I never gave myself the chance to prove I was good enough, I made it impossible to build my self esteem and confidence because I found it easier to hide away.  It’s really sad to think that I was so terrified of my classmates opinions and actions towards me and I wish that I had been stronger and stuck up for who I was instead of hiding and trying to change myself into someone else.  I’m 23 now and ever since the age of 12, I’ve avoided any experience which I thought could cause me humiliation, and by doing this, I’ve never given myself the chance to prove my fears wrong.  Just because some kids at school laughed and said horrible things, doesn’t mean everyone is going to do the same and even though I can see that logic, it doesn’t help me because I’m too used to thinking that people will dislike me, so I avoid people and situations where I could be vulnerable.  Just being in public makes me panic, because I have so little confidence in myself and I see people laughing, and think they’re laughing at me, I see people talking and automatically think they are making comments about the way I look or behave.

My journals have shown me where I went wrong, they’ve shown me that I shouldn’t feel guilty for being depressed when I’ve had a much better life than some.  They remind me of better times and make me proud of some of the things I’ve overcome. That’s why I think journals are beneficial, especially when you suffer with a mental illness because you can track your mood and identify triggers and behaviours that may signal a relapse.  It’s like writing this blog piece, it lifts a stress from my shoulders and allows me to say what I want to say without that face to face fear of judgement.  It allows me to reflect and think clearly which is really helpful.  I don’t know how I would have got through most of my life, if I didn’t have a journal to write in.

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Unfair Benefits System

Unfair Benefits System

Be prepared for a bit of a rant here because it’s a subject which I have had experience with recently and I can relate so much to the story I am going to share.  First, here is a link to a story about a woman who has just committed suicide because of an unfair PIP assessment.  It’s really heart breaking.

Article

This woman suffered from ME which is something I also suffer with.  It’s a debilitating disease which makes you exhausted constantly, it causes sleep to be unrefreshing which means sleeping does not help or rid the exhaustion.  It causes muscle and joint pain which requires a lot of pain killers and sometimes cannot even be treated with that, it leaves a lot of sufferers bed bound.  It causes a lot of symptoms cognitively, like memory issues, brain fog, lack of concentration.  There is no known cause for this disease, I contracted it after having Glandular Fever.  There is no treatment and barely any research, a lot of Doctors believe the condition to be a mental illness in which the brain signals pain when there isn’t any but recently studies have been carried out which show it could actually be a problem with the immune system not working properly.  It is an invisible illness though, which means it is ignored and misdiagnosed a lot.

I recently had my PIP claim (Type of benefit in UK) reassessed.  I’d been receiving the benefit for two years, due to the fact my severe depression and anxiety had prevented me working.  I have been suffering with ME for close to two years and it’s been a nightmare getting any treatment or help, I have to sleep almost constantly, I get about three hours a day where I am able to do household chores and that’s it.  I suffer with horrible back pain and pain in all of my joints and muscles which I take strong painkillers for and I rarely am able to leave the house.  Despite this my reassessment was rejected.

Like this woman in the above article, I had a face to face assessment.  It was carried out in my home because my anxiety prevents me travelling to places I don’t know.  During my assessment I felt extremely uncomfortable and my anxiety was so bad that I could only give one word answers.  What annoyed me about this face to face was, the assessor never asked questions from a mental perspective, my main issue is mental illness yet she only asked me physical questions “Can you get in and out of the shower”, “Can you dress yourself”, “Can you use the toilet”.  I can do all of these things but as people with depression and ME know, just because you can physically do these things, doesn’t mean you do.  I have no energy to get dressed or take showers, which means I  an go a week without washing sometimes because I am that exhausted and can’t get out of bed.  I need a lot of prompting to take care of myself and this was completely ignored.  I was asked one question about my ME and the assessment was over in 40 minutes.

Three or four weeks letter I received a letter to say my claim had been denied.  I received no qualifying points and the letter I received which explained the decision was disgusting!  It stated that the face to face assessor had written I appeared completely relaxed and showed no signs of anxiety.  This was completely false, I was sweating profusely, my heart was beating erratically throughout and I couldn’t talk.  The letter also stated that because I had not attempted suicide in over a year, my mental state was fine.  This comment is extremely offensive to me and I am so disappointed in my countries benefit system.  Suicide is such a sensitive issue and they basically told me I don’t deserve help because it’s been over a year since I tried to take my life.  The letter went on to say that physically I was able and healthy and did not warrant any further financial help.  It was a completely false report of my condition and it left me devastated.  My Mum went out of her way to appeal the decision and luckily I have a great GP who wrote a letter also.  I know how the woman in the article felt, because I felt the same way, I felt so betrayed and unfairly judged by my country.  These people are supposed give benefits to people who need them, they are supposed to help.  How many people sit on jobseekers allowance and don’t lift a finger to find work, yet they get money ever month no problem.  I suffer with illnesses which may be invisible but they are extremely real and I don’t deserve to be ignored and shoved aside simply because my illness are to complex for the benefits system to understand.

The woman in this article took her own life because some person in an office somewhere decided she wasn’t worth the trouble, that her condition was to complex and since it’s invisible, it can just be ignored and turned away.  I don’t know how this assessor can live with themselves knowing that they ultimately made a decision which ruined someone’s life and made them give up on life and choose death. I used to think my country was a fair one, I used to be proud of my home but I am utterly disgusted by it now.  The government doesn’t care about how unfair their system is, they spend no time investigating the people that claim benefits fraudulently and instead spend their time taking if off people who are vulnerable and can’t stand up for themselves, they force people with invisible illness to suffer and struggle because it’s easier to ignore something you can’t see than to address it and take it seriously.  The woman in the article took her own life surrounded by her benefits letters stating that she was healthy and able, basically calling her a liar.  I know how this woman felt and it’s so saddening because these assessors made her feel like her life was worthless and unimportant, they treated her like a case number and not a person.  People suffering with illness deserve respect and understanding, they deserve to be listened too and treated with kindness, this woman was given none of this and yet nothing will be done about it, the government and the benefits system will lock it away in some filing cabinet and forget about it.

I’d like to say at this point that my own benefits decision was overturned and I did receive my claim.  I had to fight tooth and nail for it, I had to send piles of evidence and statements from people who know me.  It made my mental state deteriorate badly and my illnesses were made worse by the stress and anxiety I had to deal with.  I got no apologies for the way I was treated, no sorry for the completely false statement given by the assessor and no support during the time I had to wait and worry about the decision.  It may have come out positively in the end for me but it doesn’t for a lot of people, so many people are put through more suffering and ignored because their illnesses aren’t common or easy to see.  I’m disappointed in my government and I’m disappointed in the people that are supposed to help us, who are supposed to make out lives easier and help us live independently despite out illnesses.  It’s unacceptable.

 

 

Self Harm Isn’t a Joke

Self Harm Isn’t a Joke

I first self harmed at 15, I tried it because at the time there was a trend of cutting words into your arms.  It was seen as rebellious and cool, I did it once and forgot about it.  That is, until I was 16 and being bullied, I turned to it again, but this time I did it because I felt so unbearably miserable inside and I wanted to make it seen, I wanted someone to see my pain and help me.  It was just a couple of times and then I gave up because I didn’t have the courage to carry on, I was squeamish and hated pain.

I often wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t had those experiences, what if I had never tried it? But I did and for some reason it stuck with me and at 18 I began self harming again, but this time it wasn’t an experiment, it was serious.  I had a trusty knife, always the same one, sharpest I could find and I started off cutting once a month, then once a week and eventually it became a night time ritual.  It was my way of purging the hatred and depression inside of me, the pain no longer got to me and seeing myself bleed brought me relief.  My favourite place to cut was my arms, it was easy and accessible, I wore long sleeved tops and jumpers for months before anyone found out what I was doing.

I eventually learned that my arms were too visible, I didn’t want people to see what I was doing, I didn’t want people seeing the ugliness.  So I began cutting my thighs, and it’s still my go to spot.  The thing with self harm is, it’s never enough.  I started out cutting little scratches, not enough to bleed, and then it wasn’t enough so I cut deeper and deeper, I demanded more blood and more pain.  I’d let my scars scab over and then cut them open again and again.

For me, self harm is a way to relieve myself of the feelings that threaten to kill me inside.  I’ve gone weeks and eventually months without self harming but when my depression gets bad and I don’t know how to keep going, it’s the only way to purge myself.  It’s the only way to let out my anger and hatred.

What upsets me and makes me really angry is people who trivialise self harm.  This week I saw someone I know, who has never self harmed post on the internet, claiming that they self harm.  It made me really angry because so many people today see self harm as a way to get attention, to gain sympathy and cause a stir.  People who pretend to self harm for attention, make it harder for people who actually self harm to get help.  I’ve seen pictures posted online, people who have self harmed and uploaded it to the internet for everyone to see.  I’ve never openly displayed my self harm, even when it was cool to do, even when I wanted for someone to see it and help me, I still hid it.  It probably seems hypocritical now, because I’m writing about it online but I’m doing it because I really believe that self harm gets pushed aside and ignored too much.  I self harm because I feel such a dark feeling inside, a soul crushing heaviness that kills any happiness I feel.  I don’t do it because it’s rebellious or cool, I don’t show everyone I meet my scars to get validation or attention.  Self harm is serious, it’s a sign that someone is struggling so much, they choose to go against everything in their nature and hurt themselves.  Human nature is to protect ourselves and ensure out species survives, when someone self harms, they go against all of this because they see no other way to rid themselves of the feelings inside.

People will walk past me in the street and they would never guess at the scars that hide beneath my clothes, scars that I have to look at for the rest of my life, scars I’ve tried to hide with tattoos.  I’ll never forget the first time I showed my Fiancé.  The first time I agreed to leave the lights on as I undressed, the feeling that he would look at my scarred skin and think I was ugly.  Self harm isn’t something you do to gain popularity, it isn’t something to make a joke of and flaunt about.  Self harm is serious and deserves to be seen as such.

Criticise

Criticise

I noticed that today’s word prompt is Criticise which is a term I know well.  To criticise someone is to indicate fault or express judgement.  Mental illness unfortunately invites criticism more than most.  Nobody likes to be criticised but when it happens in relation to something you can’t change then it’s even harder to deal with.

“Why can’t you just be happy?”, “Can’t you just snap out of it?”, “You should try thinking of good things instead of bad things”, “Just don’t let it beat you”, “Can’t you see what a good life you have?”, “Take up a new hobby, you’re just bored”, “You’re not ill, you’re just tired”, “Don’t be anxious, there is nothing to worry about”, “You can’t let your problems stop you doing things”.

It’s all words I’ve heard since being diagnosed with depression.  As if it isn’t hard enough fighting your brain constantly to carry on, people think that making criticism or judgement will help.  There is offering advice and support and there is criticising someone for the way the live with illness.  I hate being told to just smile and get through it, to snap out of depression and stop letting it effect me so much.  I don’t have a say in how my depression affects me, I can’t just wake up one day and say “Today I’m going to be happy and depression is in the past” and that’s what makes an invisible illness harder, having people criticise and judge you because physically you appear healthy.

Even worse is the people that criticise when they have no experience in the matter, people who have never been affected by depression will criticise the way I handle it, they will tell me I’m dealing with it in the wrong way, that I’m not trying to recover properly.  It’s one of the main reasons I don’t think CBT worked for me, I went through three separate courses of the therapy and it was degrading being told I wasn’t putting enough effort into getting better, that I wasn’t trying to change my life when every day it was a struggle to get up and carry on living.

I spend most of my time at home, my anxiety limits my activities a lot.  It makes me feel isolated and weird because I don’t react the same way as others to situations.  I can’t just get up and go out shopping, I can’t go to concerts or to a place with groups of people.  Then people come along and say “But what are you worried about? nothing bad is going to happen” and expect it to fix everything, they expect that if they tell me not to worry then all of a sudden my anxiety is going to just turn itself off.  When it continues they get angry and frustrated at me because what they’ve said has had no effect and they criticise me for not trying.

CFS means my body is aching and sore all of the time, I am in a constant state of exhaustion and need roughly 14 hours of sleep to function for just three hours, then I need to sleep again.  Yet sleep doesn’t refresh me, it doesn’t make me feel better, it just charges my body enough to do the bare minimum and some days I can’t even do that.  “You’re just lazy” ,”You just need to sleep better”, “Go to bed earlier”, “Do more work and then you’ll wake up eventually”, “You’re only tired because you’re not doing anything or going out”.  It’s amazing that, for a condition with very little research or treatment, that some people think themselves experts and think they are in a position to criticise.

Criticism can be a good thing if it’s constructive, if it’s advice or a suggestion to help.  Criticism that just aims to judge and point out failure is not helpful, it’s harmful.  I have to listen to it everyday in some form, sometimes from people who love me and don’t realise what they are saying is hurtful.  People with a chronic illness have to deal with enough, without people adding judgement and criticism to make them feel even worse.  Everyone you meet may be struggling with something and unless you know their situation and how they feel inside then you have no right to judge.  It’s hard enough fighting something that I can’t see, I don’t need to be criticised and judged for the way I fight it.

Confidence and Self Esteem

Confidence and Self Esteem

My confidence and self esteem issues started in high school and have such a strong impact on me even now. it’s something that follows me and triggers my depression a lot, and in turn, my depression takes advantage of my low self esteem and makes me hate the person I am.

As a child, I was a complete attention seeker, always in front of the camera singing and dancing.  I was confident and adventurous, I loved making friends and I was slightly tom boyish but happy with who I was.  When I look back at photos and videos of myself back then, I feel a lot of things.  I feel a happiness at seeing my old self and seeing how much I enjoyed life.  I feel jealousy because I’d give anything to be that little girl again with all that confidence.  I feel sadness because that little girl I was, isn’t here anymore and she didn’t deserve to be broken down and made to feel worthless.

High school can be a hard time of life for some, while for others it’s the best years of their life.  My high school life was a mix of the two.  On one hand I loved learning, I was a bookworm and I loved to soak up knowledge and express my opinions.  On the other hand, my classmates made me dread going to school and that’s where I began to lose the confident, adventurous girl I was.  I wouldn’t say I was bullied, I was never physically hurt by my classmates or singled out and targeted by a group of people.  The problem was, I didn’t fit in anywhere and although I had friends, I drifted between groups and never really found my place which meant a lot of the time, I was left on my own.  Group projects or gym class used to bring dread to my heart because I knew I’d always be the last to be picked.  When paired with me, my classmate would snigger to their friends and complain in whispers because I was the quiet shy girl who always got on with the teachers and did well on schoolwork.  To everyone else, I was uncool and no one wanted to be associated with that bookworm who actually enjoyed schoolwork.  When speaking aloud in class, I became nervous and blushing had always been an issue, my classmates picked up on this and whenever I had to speak up, my classmates would laugh quietly to one another and whisper about how red I turned and how I would just look at the floor.  Eventually I felt like my opinions and my voice wasn’t important and it was easier and safer to stay quiet and instead of answering teachers, just pretend I didn’t know the answer.  I was always a bit tom boyish and the popular girls made comments about my clothes and asked me where I shopped, they’d giggle and judge me.  The boys would make comments about how I wasn’t girly and eventually changed my name from Heather to Hector because they thought I was more of a boy.

I thought college was my chance at a new start but it was more of the same, I was quiet and shy so people found it easier to ignore me and pretend I didn’t exist.  There was none of the teasing and insults that I’d experienced in high school but being ignored and rejected was the same.  I’d end up sitting at a table in class all on my own because no one would sit near me, they thought I was odd because I wasn’t as confident and outspoken as them.  I never got included in group work, the rest of the group would just talk amongst themselves and do the work without me.  This was also a time in my life where I was bullied by a single person who chose to pick on the way I looked and my weight.  I wasn’t overweight, I’d never been sporty or skinny and I’ve always been very short.  Nevertheless, I’d always worried about my appearance and when a girl started to call me fat and post pictures of me on the internet with insulting names and comments about my weight, it really destroyed me and it was the final straw.  I’d held on and tried so hard to fit in and be like everyone else but all I got was rejected, made fun of and ridiculed for being different.  I hated myself so much at this point that self harming came easily to me, I wanted to hurt and scar the ugly person I was, I hated my body and my appearance so much that I physically sliced into my skin with knives or scissors to make the pain go away.

High school and college was a constant period of my life where I was ignored, left out and isolated by others because I was quiet and people didn’t want to know the shy, quiet bookworm.  This left me feeling like I would never be good enough, that my life wasn’t important and that I was below everyone else.

I hate the person I am now.  Lot’s of people are insecure about themselves and have things they wish they could change about the way they look.  For me though, it’s a hatred of everything I see when I look in the mirror.  I hate that I’m not skinny or in shape, I hate the my hair is frizzy and not straight, I hate that my nose isn’t straight because I broke it when I was 12.  I hate the stretch marks on my skin, the way my skin never tans, the colour of my eyes, my chest size, my ugly feet.  Everything about the way I look is disgusting to me, it physically makes me sick thinking about myself.  And it’s not just on the outside but the inside too, the self loathing I feel because I’m not out going or bubbly, the feeling that I will always be that girl sat on my own because no one wants to know me.  I’m worthless and not good enough, I don’t fit in anywhere and I’m just disgusting .

I look in the mirror and I feel sad, I feel broken and I feel disgust.  No one knows how their words affect others, sometimes people speak without thinking.  At school, no one thinks about how, they way you treat someone can affect them in the long run, it’s all just gossip and being cool.  I just want someone to read this and think next time they see someone sitting on their own, next time you see someone being left out and ignored and make the effort.  I wish that someone had made the effort to include me, even once.

 

 

Quotes about Depression and Suicide

Quotes about Depression and Suicide

I’ve always really loved quotes because when I read one that I can relate too, it’s a good feeling to know that someone else has felt the same way.  Depression is isolating and reading words that someone else has written and relating to them makes me feel not so alone.  So I wanted to compile a list of my favourite quotes about depression and suicide and I hope that they can make other people feel less alone as well because loneliness is one of the hardest emotions to fight.

Most of these are off Pinterest and may not have authors listed so sorry about that.

“I don’t want to see anyone. I lie in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. I have done something wrong, something so huge I can’t even see it, something that’s drowning me. I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead.”
― Margaret Atwood

“Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don’t kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, “He fought so hard.” And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong.”
― Sally Brampton

“When someone asks me “What is wrong?” I simply reply with “I’m just tired” and they agree; they say to take a nap.  But you see this exhaustion it is not something simply resolved by sleeping.  I cannot simply shut my eyes and wake up okay.  I need a break from my brain, my heart, my life.  I need to go away for just a little while.  Or maybe forever.”

“When a depressed person shrinks away from your touch, it does not mean she is rejecting you.  Rather she is protecting you from the foul, destructive evil which she believes is the essence of her being and which she believes can injure you” – Dorothy Rowe

“People who die by suicide don’t want to end their lives.  They want to end their pain.”

“You don’t know pain until you’re staring at yourself in the mirror with tears streaming down your face and you’re begging yourself to just hold on and be strong.  That is pain”

“I don’t know how I expect people to love me when I can barely look at myself without cringing”

“I say sorry a lot, mostly because I feel like everything is my fault”

“Depression isn’t always at 3am.  Sometimes it happens at 3pm, while you’re with your friends and you’re halfway through a laugh”

“Why don’t you accept compliments? Because if feels like I’m being lied too”

“It’s scary, what a smile can hide”

“Never underestimate how much pain somebody has to be to put a razor to their wrist, a finger to their throat, a gun to their head or a pen to ‘that’ note”

“Don’t try to relate to a suicidal person.  Sure you may have had some sad days but until you have felt that overwhelming, empty, almost calming desire to die, just say ‘Thank you for still being here, you are strong and I love you'”

“You hurt yourself on the outside trying to kill the monster on the inside”

“If you could see what I feel, if anxiety, if sadness, and loneliness were physical wounds that decorate my body in red lines and purple marks, would you be shocked at how bloody and bruised I am?”

“All it takes is a beautiful fake smile to hide an injured soul and they will never notice how broken you really are” – Robin Williams

 

These are a few quotes that have touched me and made me feel like I’m not truly alone in the world.  It’s hard living with depression and getting to the point where suicide is the only option you have to end the pain.  I would never wish it on anyone and one day, I hope that my words will touch someone else and make them feel less alone.  In a world filled with this many people, no one should feel alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Privacy

Privacy

I noticed today’s word prompt is privacy and it got me thinking.  This blog is a way for me to vent how I am feeling and be honest about my depression and anxiety without feeling scared of what people think.  I don’t know why it’s easier to talk about how I feel here rather than in person but it is.  In my normal life, I’m a very private person and I don’t like anyone knowing things about me.

With my depression and anxiety, I’ve been referred to talking therapy a few times where I could go through CBT and talk about my feelings in order to change my mind set and hopefully get better.  Talking therapy for me is a nightmare and subsequently has never worked for me.  I used to dread going and when I was in a session, I would say whatever I needed to get out of there fast, even if it wasn’t the truth.

I don’t like to be the centre of attention and I find it hard to talk about my feelings, I don’t even tell my family or Fiancé what I’m feeling most of the time because I just feel like, why burden someone else.  To me, my issues are my issues and I don’t want to tell other people how I am feeling in case they turn around and say “That’s it?”.  I never had a big tragic event to trigger my depression, it just became something that affected me and people find that hard to deal with sometimes.  I know there are a lot of people in the world that have bigger issues like poverty, starvation, abuse, death etc. and I don’t want to seem selfish.  My life is a good one and I don’t have a reason other than dodgy brain chemicals to be depressed, and it makes me feel like I shouldn’t complain, I should just keep it to myself and suffer alone.

So when I’m sent to someone to talk about my depression and the things that affect in, I find it extremely daunting and I find it impossible to convey just how much I’m suffering.  I will simplify it and make it seem like I’m coping when I’m not because I don’t want to bother other people.  In therapy I used to do whatever I could to get discharged, I learned the mood questionnaires and I caught on to what the therapist wanted to hear and said it, I made them think I was recovering and that therapy was working for me, because I wanted to be discharged and not cause a fuss or be the centre of attention.

I’ve recently been referred to a psychiatrist because my depression hasn’t improved in five years and I have a history of suicide attempts.  Medication helps but when my mood gets too low, it’s ineffective and therapy has done nothing so now I have to go and see someone who is going to want me to talk about myself and my feelings.  I want to get better and I want someone to help me but I’m stuck in that place where I want help but my anxiety about being a burden stops me from expressing myself.

Privacy to me is important because I like to keep things to myself and be self reliant but it also makes me very hard to get to know.  Privacy makes me a very closed off person with a fear of being too much trouble and being judged for how I really feel.  Privacy is a good thing but it’s also a problem that affects me every day.