Diary of a Depressed Girl

I am a 28 year old girl. I live in Wales. I go to work in an office. I drink wine with my friends on the weekend. I am a lesbian. I have depression. I have anxiety. I have OCD. I have PTSD. I am a Type 1 diabetic. I really like olives. I do not like spiders. I am not solely defined by any one of these things but the one thing that I cannot get away from on a daily basis is my own brain. I have a mental health condition. I don't talk a lot about it because the stigma is still there and until very recently I did not understand it myself. I may never. But what I do know is that my experiences need to be expelled from my brain in order for me to find a way to be. A way to get through the seconds and hours and days ahead. Writing makes the thoughts tangible and the tangible is much easier to deal with. And this is it. This is my stream of consciousness. I will be blunt and self depreciating because I will not be editing. Not will probably be an uncomfortable read. If anything I hope that it will give some comfort to me and to others going through experiences like mine. If you were looking for something light you might be on the wrong blog.  

Tuesday 29th September - Day 1

I had the thoughts again last night in bed, the ones where I could not stand to be my own body. It became so intense that I had to get up and put layers on so that I could create a physical barrier between me and my own skin. I felt vulnerable and the pangs in my stomach made it impossible to imagine anyone even touching my hand, a friend patting my shoulder or a stranger on the street looking at me. 

I have doubled my dose of prozac. It made me want to walk into the road. Music helps when your brain is full of thoughts about why anyone would even attend your funeral. But I had to take some time away again from work. So this morning it was back to my GP. She's nice and when I tell her about the traffic she doesn't make me feel like I'm crazy. You'll feel worse, 7-10 days but phone me if you make any 'bad plans'. That's what she calls suicidal thoughts and it makes me smile. She kind of reminds me of my friend, she told me that if I were to walk in front of a bus I would probably do it wrong. Not get the right effect. I deal with my life through humour, so why shouldn't I mock this thing that is burrowing deeper into my brain. 

She referred me for counselling which is always an ominous thought and immediately I started thinking about how to lie to the counsellor and whether my eyes would give me away. They tend to change colour when I am sad. Lie detectors are not mandatory I remind myself. But why would I lie. Because being a compulsive liar is not completely unfamiliar. It was a coping mechanism as a child. The early signs when I told my teacher I had seen my friend drown to get attention. One of the least proud moments of my life. I didn't want to tell her why I was really sad. But the cry for help was met with being told to stand in front of the class and say why telling lies is bad. 

I have to come back in 2 weeks. She's put me on to this CBT thing called Mood Gym which asks you all kinds of questions about why you feel like you do. It's meant to help with coping mechanisms. I just like that the characters are called things like 'no problemos' and 'moody'. Identifying with a character helps with perspective. I had blood taken too which is always an issue as my veins like to play hide and seek when it come to giant needles. Sweeney Todd had to dig in 3 places to get it but luckily she did with a smile, a generic question about the weather and didn't have to foray into my wrist, which hurts like a...a lot. 

I always hate when they say exercise helps with anything, because mostly I am lazy. Getting under a blanket with some chocolate and watching repeats of 90's sitcoms is always an instinct in these situations. But I decided to take a walk. And it did help. There are some beautiful houses in Cardiff. Lined with trees. The kind of houses you pass and promise you'll live there some day with your dog and your 2.4 children. But then the thought crosses my mind that I will never be normal. Happiness is for other people who have functioning frontal lobes. I chastise myself for these thoughts. The cycle of doomed thoughts. Social anxiety is manageable today and the walk around some greenery actually helps.

I found a basketball court and spend 30 mins getting lost with google maps trying to find a sport shop. I loved basketball and have the urge to play. I'll have to go back tomorrow though because I have to order the ball in.

Wandering in crowds on a sunny Tuesday afternoon allows me to lose myself a little. I turn off my phone. The feeing of being unreachable coursing through me like adrenaline. Stopping by a stream reminds me of how soothing water is. It reminds me of a happy memory of my gran but a million negatives crowd it and soon I feel melancholy again. Good life choices don't seem important so I have cheesecake for lunch and a can of red bull. It makes me feel guilty but satisfied. 

Sitting down at home in front of the TV when there are a hundred thoughts a minute is difficult and that's when I started writing. The kind of writing where you go all shining-esque and considering scrawling 'all work and no play' on your wall in eyeliner. But then I though of the bond. Logic tried to punch irrationality but missed because sometimes he's got a really bad aim. I had to pace when it was done. 7 laps around the room because 7 is today's number. And now I am tapping. 

When that happens on a bus I like to pretend I am a great classical pianist, practicing my composition. I have the hands for a piano but never had the ability to commit to learning. One of the biggest frustrations of this thing is how it effects your interest in things, your decision making, your ability to focus. I chastise myself for not being better at something. Decide I am going to fail at everything and contemplate going to sleep because it is all so tiring. Luckily I got an e-mail that the basketball is in. Something mundane to walk towards and half way through another day.