Guest Post: Words

This is the first guest post I’ve put on my blog. A friend of mine who’s been reading my blog for a while got in touch recently to thank me for voicing what she couldn’t, it meant the world to me that she did that, but also made me so incredibly sad that there are so many of you out there who don’t feel able to talk, to tell others how you’re feeling. I offered to publish a post on my blog if she wished so that her voice could be heard and this is what she wanted to say, these are her words.

Words just taste like dirt, they crumble and fall out of my mouth as I try and speak about my problems.They hurt my heart as I force them out letter by letter, sound by sound, taking each and every ounce of strength I have to be truthful and honest, not only with the person you’re talking to but also myself. If I could tell a million lies just so that I didn’t have to admit that I have a problem with depression then you know what , I probably would take that risk! That risk of being caught out.
But I can’t.
Admitting to myself that I have depression and that I have struggled for years and years dealing with suicidality and self harm is the biggest challenge that I face.  Every day I make the choice to be honest with myself and admit my feelings, that these aren’t just made up. I am actually feeling something that people, my friends and family just can’t comprehend. Letting people know what I’m thinking and feeling on a daily (I mean hourly) basis is a struggle that is up there with the best of the difficult challenges that I have face in my life.

Just the idea that I could not be believed makes me want to shut down and hide away from the world, which in turn makes me feel more depressed and think that I’m a failure, I’m a nobody.
It’s a vicious cycle and somehow there has got to be a way to stop it.

That even though I wake up every day (most of the time I’m not grateful I have in fact woken up) and tell myself that today is going to be a good day, every day there is some emotion that takes me away from that happiness. I have tried to distract myself through the mundane , admire the beautiful in people and my surroundings, but unfortunately depression doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t care, it doesn’t care about gender, race, religion and it’s time that we wake up as a society and HELP those that have been courageous in admitting that they need support. Too many people are trying to communicate yet are to be misunderstood.

If only people could step inside my brain to see and feel what is going on with me on a day to day basis then they would have a tiny inkling of how difficult it is to keep up with The Jones’, to keep that smile on your face when you don’t feel like smiling, to be “normal”. That having conversations about things that you don’t give a flying rat’s arse about at lunch time without hitting out or shouting at someone means you have succeeded with life that day.
Talking is an aspect of life that we all need to be cautious of, that taking the time to sit and chat to me about who I am as a person not a person with mental illness would be one of the greatest kindnesses that someone could show me. Sometimes all I need is a hug and someone to say to me “are you doing okay today?” or “hey, you know what, I think you’re strong, you’re courageous and you just gotta keep on fighting”. If you feel it, you should say it, no matter how difficult it could be (Life Lessons 101).
What makes me feel more able to talk is a good cuppa, a nice calm atmosphere and no pretences, no having to make up some bullshit story about why my day has been ‘good’ when it clearly hasn’t. No having to fight through the words and the friend being able to understand when my words get muddled up or they just won’t come out. Looking at me as though I am an actual person, not some dumb witted half wit that I feel like I am most of the time. I don’t need you to be negative, I need you to understand and listen. To just simply be there to let me cry it all out.
Thank you, if you can do those few things for me I will do anything and everything for you. I once read something that said the kindest people are those that struggle because they know what pain is and don’t want anybody else to feel like that, it’s true.