Autumn is my favourite time of year. I love the colours, I love walking through the leaves on the ground, I love laying in bed and hearing the rain against my window, I love coming home into the warm after feeling the cold wind on my face, I love the big hot dinners. But like most things, my bitch of a brain wants to ruin it. I’m tired. I’m anxious. I’m down.
Ever since I can remember, this time of year has brought about a lot of negative feelings for me and a lot of memories that cause me pain and sadness. The darkness makes me feel very vulnerable. I don’t know why.
On Thursday night, for the first time in a while, I laid in my bed and I sobbed into my pillow for no apparent reason. I just felt so sad. I felt exhausted and my body felt heavy. The familiar feelings of depression that loom in every so often have been threatening to come and stay for a few weeks now. I feel like I spent my whole year trying to recover from last years depression for it to start to creep back in again. The fight is never too far away. Sometimes I feel like I’m better equipped and I tell myself that things can never be as bad as the last time. But then the dread that maybe it could be as bad as last time just pops up and makes itself at home for a while. What if it gets that bad and I want to kill myself?
It’s been a year since I visited the psychiatric nurse and asked for help. A year. I have my diagnosis but I’m still waiting for therapy. It’s a weird limbo and the coronavirus means that I might have to make myself comfortable here for a while. My mental health issues affect me every single day. Even when I’m not depressed, that bastard BPD is always there.
One thing I do know is that I have recognised my symptoms before someone else has had to point them out to me. That’s new. I recognised that I didn’t want to talk to people. I recognised my fatigue. I recognised my aversion to showering. I’m proud of that and it gives me hope that I can deal with this before it turns into a place of darkness where all I’m able to do it’s sleep, cry and make jokes about what a fucking mess I am. I’ll still make jokes but I refuse to let myself become the person I was during my last depression. I haven’t got many friends left so I could do without scaring these ones off. LOL
Look after your brain and be kind to yourself and others. Bella xx
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