Friday, 11 October 2013

I still can’t write anything

Life as it is has me questioning a lot of things.
Not like you think. I’m not questioning this, I want this, I want to spend my life writing, if I can.
I want this to be my day job, but we’ll see what happens with that, and, well, life.

No, I’m questioning myself.
Let’s start from the beginning, and maybe this will help.

Yesterday I went to the doctors for my 6 week check-up of my Mirena. And I knew, before I went up there that day that I was going to ask for an appointment, or a referral, anything, to get my depression diagnosed, because I feel it’s time in my life that I really should. and it would be good in so many ways. I’d be able to get a shit load more help when if I finally slip up and let myself drown in my own misery.

Anyway, I knew this, weeks, before. I knew this going in. I was going to ask about it. I was going to make that step and finally get help. Only…

Well, I was really happy yesterday. And thinking of it now, I was overly happy.
I wasn’t nervous about the appointment that I was going to. I always get nervous. Like I think I have the day/time/place, wrong with everything that I have to go at. It makes my hands shake, I think because I forget to probably breath and all that.

Anyway, I got none of that. I was happy, carefree, and even though it wasn’t particularly unusual for me, it was for the environment that I was heading into.
But, like with many things I’ve gotten my brain to react in certain ways to certain things. If there’s something around me that I believe I shouldn’t be seeing, I won’t, even if I see everything, the information just gets stored in my brain as something different until I’m willing to look at it the way I should have before (I’m actually really good at reading people).

It seems the same thing happens to me when I’m in front of a doctor and it’s about my depression.
It’s like that defensiveness pulls up and it smothers me in feelings that aren’t what I’m feeling but they may not be what I’m really feeling, not at that moment.
It’s like because I’ve hidden it. Because I’ve lived a life, that yeah, I can openly speak about it to everyone, but I don’t actually want you to see it in me. I’ve never wanted you to see that in me, so I’m not going to show you it.

Sorry, I’m rambling.
The things is I kinda feel like I don’t have a right to be depressed. That I shouldn’t be feeling this way.
I know.
I know deep inside my heart that it’s that diseased part of my mind telling me this, but the fucker has a point.
And the internet, isn’t helping me with this. Because the ones that speak up. The news. Just general information out there shows that I really don’t have a reason for why I feel the way I do. For why life shouldn’t be all lollypops and sunshine all the time, because to a lot of people in the world, that’s what my life looks like. That’s what my life should feel like.

There is absolutely nothing traumatic in my life. I’ve got a loving family, that will accept me no matter what I want to do with my life. Or who I want to do that with.
I have great kids, and a partner I can see myself being with til death do us part.

And I feel because of all these qualities that I don’t deserve to say I have depression. I don’t deserve to have depression.

Anyway, I did the small test, and predictable I got all 6 and 7’s because I don’t think, well, it wouldn’t have been right for me to get any higher, would it? But now, thinking back, I’m not having a good day, and I haven’t for a long time. But even as I went on the test, on line, I still get the same. It’s like I’m incapable of knowing what I’m really feeling. Of what my number is, because that would mean that I am. For no reason at all. My brain just wants to be like this, and I don’t feel as if I have the right.

And how fuck up is that? You don’t need a reason to be depressed. Yeah, a lot of depressant come from traumatic events, and those can be the most deadly because they are quick depression.
My, if I need to put it into a category. If I really need to have a reason behind why I’m like this, it’s because I have suffered years upon years of a reading disorder that has made it hard for me to have full confidence in myself in any area of growing up, but most defiantly in my school life, since that thrives of the written word.
I have had self-esteem problems before I’ve had to hide how dumb I was, even as I screamed about it at the top of my lung—hell, maybe I’ve had worse problems because I’ve never been able to hide them, but I couldn’t tell you, I’ve only ever been this way, and I don’t believe my sister had it any easier as she could hide hers.

I have school teacher telling me it was my own fault I was like this, because they couldn’t be bothered seeing me as anything but a statistics. Worse, an attitude that made it impossible for anyone to help me, for them to see me as anything but at statistic.
By the time I hit high school I was already lost. I didn’t care anymore, I worked around the fact that I couldn’t read/spell and I was creating a life for me, most wouldn’t have even bothered about.

But you don’t really need to know all this.

What you needed to know, maybe, is that it doesn’t matter why you have depression, you are yourself and even if there isn’t a reason behind it, that doesn’t make yours any less real then someone who has the scares as proof.

Don’t let yourself become like me, a person who can’t break down the walls enough to get help for it.

That’s all (and sorry I didn’t really stay on topic)

Oh, and if you feel you have depression, or any other of those related mental illnesses and wish to make certain of gather information, because of someone else in your life, you should check out Black Dog Institute epically if your Australian (cause that's who it's from)

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