March 15, 2013

AmberAt the time, it was becoming harder not to feel lonely. It was becoming harder not to lie down in my bed at night and not spend hours staring at the ceiling. Usually this wouldn’t be such a bad thing, usually, this would be quite refreshing to sit and think – but what about when your thoughts no longer occupy your mind, what about when your dreams no longer excite you enough to close your eyes?

You’re entering a state of mind where you’re finding yourself shrugging at everything in a half-hearted manner, shrugging at everyone around you – shrugging at life. You’re unable to drag your feet out of bed in the morning, because sleep seems more appealing. Unable to stare at the mass of photos pinned to your bedroom wall like you once used to, because you know you can’t really speak to any of the faces staring back at you anymore.

I was nineteen years old and had ‘depressed’ hanging over me like a cloud

It angered me that it came to this, the fact that I was nineteen years old and had ‘depressed’ hanging over me like a cloud. In my head I hated myself more than anyone but I hated everyone else too. I was constantly back and forth. I couldn’t understand why I had to take tablets to make myself feel better; surely that wasn’t how this was supposed to work. Surely, happiness was having friends and a family that loved me? Why wasn’t that enough?

I kidded myself into that being the answer, how could anybody love me? I was a mess. So I blamed them, those so called people I call my friends, the fact they wouldn’t ask me when I was sad the real reason behind it. It’s was as though I could feel a wall physically going up around my heart and around my brain, I could feel myself slowly backing off from everyone and becoming simply unapproachable.

I blurted out snippets of information, cries for help

I did try, though, sometimes. I blurted out snippets of information, cries for help, until I realised no one was listening – that they’d heard it all before. Or they assumed the rest of the story for me. I almost yearned for those drunken nights where I could say anything and blame it on the alcohol, those nights where my best mate finally cradled me in her arms and stuttered out an apology. Yet, I always knew no matter how many times she did it, it was never really an apology to me, more so an apology to herself about not having the guts to say anything sober and how guilty she felt.

They didn’t understand that my frame of mind looked at them like they owed me more than that and I eloped with my selfish, depreciative bubble: the one that no one else was invited to, the one where no one knows the full story, my story. The story I only trusted myself with.

The anger began to eat away at the sadness; I became convinced people weren’t worth trusting. There’d always be something said in spite, something personal used against me. I immersed myself in my mind, forgetting about my heart. I became part of the furniture, just something and someone that sat in silence.

I couldn’t say anything to make them understand, and I couldn’t help feeling like the disappointment – not only to my friends, but to my family.

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Alcohol, in my opinion, is really underestimated in the damage it does to sooooo many lives....It's accepted freely as it's legal......Too many people die from alcohol abuse, why is it legal and freely available, when other drugs, that don't kill, are not? I just don't get it. I hid behind alcohol for 10 years, I now know how dangerous it can be. :-)


none of my friends understand my depression they dont try or dont want to. I feel like i always have to explain myself but its never enough. when im to low to go out im just seen as being boring but they dont understand the full torment thats going on in my head. i try so hard to get on with things and stay happy but its impossible my tablets keep my head above water but thats it;. i dont feel joy or happiness all i feel is sadness and helplessness. io feel useless and worthless and i know this has been passed onto my son. i dont feel like there is anyone i can trust with my deep innermost thoughts so they stay with me tormenting me and hurting me. its a long battle that i feel i will never win

Thank You

I've struggled with depression since I was 14 years old, and have been treated for it on and off since I was 16. I think it's incredibly brave of you to write some of the things you have in this blog, and I want to thank you for summing up in words feelings that I could not. At almost 22 I hope I'm finally coming to the end of my times of depression, but as all sufferers know, you can never predict the future and promise it won't happen again. I wish you every luck in the future.

I too was diagnosed with

I too was diagnosed with depression at the age of 22. I found I could relate to this story as my diagnosis led to more confusion about how at 22 I could be depressed. I tried to reach out to my friends and was also desperate for those drunken nights out where a friend could ask me how I was and I could be truly honest with them. It never came though. I reached out to them in other ways but no one never thought to ask me how I really was. I realise now that I became good at pretending I was okay. I told a friend as I felt she would understand and also my dad, having both been through similar things - both of them shrugged it off and haven't asked me since how I am have been. I haven't told anyone since.


Thank you for this post. I too am 19 and have suffered with sever anxiety for several years. Although I now have that under control and no longer suffer from the crippling panic attacks, I've now slipped into a depression. A depression where I also crave the drunken nights of oblivion, only you saying that you craved them because of the ability to say anything and blame it on the alcohol has made me realise this is also why I crave it. And yet in the morning I feel more guilty than ever and lack less confidence.

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