The Monsters from under our beds…. have moved to our heads.

So I’ve been told recently that writing about depression can be good for oneself as an outlet I guess….

I always wanted to talk about it in the sense of telling people they are not alone in their feelings and thoughts, it can be incredibly lonely having these thoughts and emotions and when you hear someone else describing similar afflictions it’s almost liberating.

Of course this disease, if you will, is different for everyone.   However, knowing others feel similar can be incredible comforting.

So instead of rambling, about my own problems in hopes to get some perspective, I will come at it as hoping to help others because that always drives me a little more than anything self-serving.

 

I deal with depression.  I don’t like to say suffer, though it definitely is a suffer age, I don’t like to say suffer, it makes me feel like a victim and not someone who is trying to help oneself, I’m sorry if you have no problem saying suffer, but it’s just not a word I like to use.

I deal with it, daily.   I’m going to be honest, cause in the biggest sense I’m really talking to myself.  Acceptance blah blah blah

I deal with it daily, cause a least hourly some thought of negativity about myself will dwell inside my head.   I tend to have more than one inner monologue at one time.  The current what I am doing, the planning ahead   and the negative affliction of what is going one.  Right now, my head is thinking for example of the sentence I’m currently completing, the next paragraph I wish to start, and the demon that is telling me that I’m worthless, stupid and why would anyone want to listen to anything I have to say I should shut up and crawl away…. Yes, he’s fun isn’t he.  This demon is a constant voice in my head.  I can ignore him and just have him running in the back ground like a TV rerun, as I’m kind of used to the voice in my head and what he’s saying.  But other times, he grips me with his talons and the pain that splits my head, mind and body in two is too much to bare.   He’s good at reaching me in vulnerable times. Those times when you aren’t thinking, you’re having fun with your friends and someone snaps a picture you are in the background of, I wasn’t thinking of seeing me and then there I am… and then he is there “oh look how disgusting you are, I bet everyone is so embarrassed to have you out with them right now.  You’re bringing them down with your disgustingness” Gee thanks mister demon, I was having fun a minute ago, now I feel ashamed for having fun. But I don’t want to feel ashamed right now cause my friends are having fun and if I suddenly get sad they will stop having fun and need to cheer me up with lies… I’m such a burden…

Oh, it’s a fun circle in my head isn’t it.

Along with constant quips about my useless and worthless nature, he likes to remind me of being a burden on all I know, he likes to say horrid things to me constantly however a constant battle I have with him is the battle of self-harm.

Alas, the thing that makes me feel the most crazy, it’s an embarrassing thing more than anything, I wish to ignore the urge, that seeps in like an addiction to have something hurt me, the demon tells me I should be punished, I need to be in pain for anything he finds stupid, or burdening.

I did something stupid, I need to bleed, I disappointed someone, I need to bleed.

Slowly to oh you didn’t get enough attention, no one said your shirt was nice, why would you expect that…. You’re disgusting… you need to bleed.

I felt better when my self-harm was link more to an overwhelming cloud of stress that I couldn’t get out from under and I knew logic and answers were here but I just couldn’t reach them for the storm, digging into my arm was a way to anchor myself back to earth, to look at the blood seeping through my skin and think holy fuck that was incredibly stupid, oh hey logic here you are! I find all the answers.  Now however, its shift to, all kinds of ways to hurt myself to be in constant pain in the sense of that’s what I deserve.  It’s crazy I know! Logic has no sense here! I cut my toes till they bleed, have blisters on my feet, banged wrists on sharp edges and taken razors to my arm, not to wish death…. Well not at first, but to wish harm, my mind is telling me I deserve to be in constant discomfort.

 

Oh, this is so embarrassing to share all this. But again, I hope that others see it and go oh my goodness, I thought I was the only one that nuts!
For the worried… I am seeking help and you should to. There are ways for us.  I went to my GP who put me on a mental health care plan.  I have appointments with both Psychiatrist and Psychologist

Being bulked billed as well.  I have tried different medications, some for anxiety which I noticed a difference and one for anti-depressant.  While I did notice a bit of a change, I’m now about to try a mood stabilizer so we’ll see how that goes.  While I’m still in it, a small part of me feels better for seeking help and being on medication.  Hope that the stones I’m stepping on are leading to the way out.

 

Previous to meds and doctors I had tried all the other natural ways to get better, exercise, diet changes, hobbies, journals etc. etc., while I still won’t give up on these.  I feel I need to dig deeper and try other things.  As depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain, medication could help balance me out and get better.

 

I guess I wanted to put this out there again for others who deal with similar things… an honest approach to it all…. Writings from deep in it.  And Hopes for some answers.

For now, my story continues;

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