Ugh: An Autobiography by Me

(All picture credit to Gemma Correll)

It has been a no good very bad awful week this week. Now for those who have never experienced depression, this might be a little confusing, and I would like to ask those who might be triggered not to read on. My mental health might be fucked, doesn’t mean yours has to be too.

Now nothing bad actually happened this week. I got a B- and a B in two essays, not great, utterly mediocre really, but it’s usually not enough to make me feel this way. It’s just been one of those weeks.

Now anyone who’s read my previous posts will know that I have depression. I have tried to get it treated multiple times but usually the doctor thinks that I’m too young to have depression, and I’m just getting older, which, y’know, is a depressing thought right?  I have made an appointment with my exchange university’s mental health department, but the only appointment they had was december 1st. I suppose it’s good to know I’m clearly not the only one here who’s fucked, and I suppose if I get the medication I desperately need I can always say that this is the year I finally got antidepressants for Christmas.

For those without depression, it’s hard to describe. It took me literal years to realise I had it. It turns out that it’s surprisingly easy not to realise that you feel nothing.

On the bad days, or more recently, the bad weeks, it feels like there are clouds in my head. It’s exhaustion. Like ‘I’ve stayed up all night’ exhaustion. But your body still carries itself along on it’s merry way, not really caring how far behind your brain is.

On the bad days, every interaction, every moment, every little thing; it’s like they might as well not be happening. I smile and joke and wander along but it’s kind of like I’m watching myself do it. Like when you watch a TV show you’re not really interested in but you’re watching it now so hey ho, might as well.

And I have work to do and important things to plan and so many things to worry about, and they are still all there, but it’s like I’m standing in front of a collapsing building with a mildly worried look on my face. I need to do well this year. I need a future, and I need to start working. But I can’t. It’s as if I can’t feel or do anything. I need to fix myself, I want to fix myself, but I don’t know where to start- I’ve made the appointment at the doctor’s but I’m not sure if I can wait until then. This isn’t a ‘I need a chat with a friend and some hot tea’ kind of scenario. I need medical help.

Now before everyone panics and asks if I’m suicidal; I’m not. I know that the way I feel could change in an hour, it has before. I want to stay around for all of the amazing things I could have if I could just sort my brain out. But until then I’m just in limbo and it’s like the mind equivalent of watching paint dry.

I’m not sure the purpose of this post, I have a tendency to use this blog as my own personal diary, despite constantly saying that I won’t air my dirty washing in public.

I hope you all have a good day, and that your mental health is better than mine. If you have any leftover advice or antidepressants from your experiences with depression, well then, puff puff pass.