Dream it. Believe it. Achieve it.

When I left my last job I was given a postcard by one of the lovely people I worked with. It simply said "Dream it. Believe it. Achieve it." When I left that job I was gutted. The people I worked with were amazing, the company I worked for was great and the routine of going to work was starting to help me mentally. I felt better than I had before Christmas, I had new friends and I felt like I had achieved so much by holding down a job. Also, the support I got from all I worked with was amazing.

The only problem was, I had to leave. 

My contract finished and there were no opportunities to continue (which I knew from the outset so it wasn't a big deal). I was gutted though. As I said before, I loved the people I worked with and I enjoyed the work. 

It wasn't long before I felt the darkness growing.

I hid away. I felt like crap and as I didn't have anything to get up for I simply stopped trying. But something kept attracting my attention. 

The post card.

Soon enough I began to help myself. I attended my local Mind and began going weekly. I also started volunteering with a Dementia Charity (how I got into this is another story; I will write this down another day). I sought advice about applying for jobs and I continued to see a counsellor. 

The post card resonated with me.

From the moment I left my Christmas job I was applying for something new. I literally applied for anything. Litter picking. Post delivery. Shop work. Anything. I grew more and more frustrated and upset as I was rejected from jobs I knew I could do in my sleep.

I kept thinking about the postcard.

On a whim one day, I applied for a job that sounded like something I would enjoy. It related to my degree and it had been a dream for a while. I did't have the experience but I knew I had the drive.

Amazingly I got a telephone interview.

As I waited to hear back from that job I continued to be rejected from things I knew I could do. I cried a lot. One of the most difficult things about having depression is feeling like you are not liked or needed. The constant rejections fuelled this feeling and I found myself incredibly low once again. Lower than I had been before Christmas. Actually, the lowest I can remember being for a while.

Things looked up as I was requested to go to a face to face interview for my "dream job". I shoved my inner demons deep down so I could try and focus on the task at hand. The night before the interview I remember sobbing and asking Charlotte "What is the point? I don't have the experience. They will laugh at me". 

When I got up in the morning the first thing I read was the post card:

Dream it. Believe it. Achieve it.

There have been so many tears. Anxious nights praying for sleep. Long, dark days praying for some sort of release. Something. Anything. Please.

Well I can tell you that, finally, my hopes and dreams were answered.

I write this after completing my first full week in my shiny new 9-5 job. 

I write this not as Rebecca Warrior, sufferer of depression and anxiety. I write this as...

Rebecca Warrior

Publishing Associate

Editing

It's early days yet and I am still trying to deal with a full time role, disturbed sleep and inner demons. I cry a lot and worry constantly. But something is happening. Something good.

I know this isn't the end of all my suffering. I know that this doesn't cure anything. But it is a start. It's a step in the right direction. It's FULL TIME WORK and I couldn't be happier about it. I shall try and continue with this positivity and will count my blessings every day, as I have been doing for the past month. I've been waiting to tell people about this because I've been waiting for someone to tell me this is all a massive joke. I'm slowly starting to realise it isn't and I'm chuffed.

I still have sadness. I still have tears. But I have a reason to get up in the morning and that is HUGE.

I must take this opportunity to thank my Mum and Charlotte. You have put up with so much from me and the fact you continue to do so staggers me. I love you so very much and I know I couldn't do this without you. So thank you for your continued love and support.

I also want to thank Hilary for the postcard. It is something I will be keeping for a hell of a long time, along with the friendship of you and the rest of the lovely ladies I worked with at Christmas.

So here it is folks:

I dreamt it. I believed it. And finally, I have achieved it. 

It's been a while...

[TRIGGER WARNING: Talk of self harm, mental illness and breakdowns]

For those who like to have a peek at this blog from time to time you will have noticed I haven't been around for a while. For those who don't, it's true. I haven't posted since October 2015. It's only been four months but I've sort of missed it. There is a reason I haven't written in a while though...

I've not know what to say.

People often ask me if i'm okay, and I say "yes" because it is easier then "I don't know" or "not really, no". Before I go on I feel I need to catch you up on the events of the last few months.

So to catch you up on my life:

• I got a part time job in October. (WOO)
• I knew the contract was to finish in December. (BOO)
• I had an awesome Christmas with my family, friends and fiancé.

The truth is that in the space of 2-3 months I worked at a job I loved with people who were great and I got paid. I worked reasonable hours so I managed to establish a routine and it was Christmas so I got to do A LOT of banding too. 

Then it ended.

It ended and i'm now, as well as jobless, penniless, routine-less and because it isn't the run up to Christmas I don't get the added bonus of a chocolate every day for 25 days. ( I once had an advent calendar with chocolates until New Years Eve! 31 Chocolates!! Bliss!!) I digress! My point is that very quickly I have gone from starting to get back on track, starting to get some form of normality to my life to not. Not having any of it. 

Now I know what some of you are thinking. "That's what you get when you take on Christmas sales work". Fair point. But for me it was more then 'just a job'. I was a starting to get some normality back in my life and I think, naively, I thought that would start to make my mental health better. To the point where I thought the job would finish and then I would be stronger, so I would feel better able to apply for full time work and I WOULD find something because I'm willing and able, right? I said I was naive for a reason.

The week of christmas, after a bout of the flu, a lingering chest infection and many a migraine, myself and my doctor decided to change my medication. In retrospect changing my meds the week of Christmas was THE MOST STUPID thing I have agreed to do in a while. Christmas is an emotional time as it is, without the added pressure of small doses of new meds! Cue breakdown central! I did manage to sort of keep it together, except on boxing day when access to my dads and charlotte's family boxing day was blocked by flooded roads. To cut a long story short, I was going to have to leave my dad alone at Christmas and couldn't get to Charlotte's family get together where I was supposed to meet family I hadn't met before and had been gearing myself up for because it takes a lot of energy to be okay. We managed to get to my dads later in the day but still couldn't get to the get together, it sucked but what could we do? I'm just glad that all my family and friends were okay during the whole flood situation. Anyways, digressing again, my point is that I had a major meltdown on boxing day. 

Ever since I seem to be living from breakdown to breakdown. 

My latest breakdown was yesterday. I went to Mind in Harrogate to seek advice about benefits because i'm too anxious to go to the job centre myself after 1 bad experience. I cried at this poor woman for ten minutes before I could actually get to the point. She didn't seem to mind though. I even ended up having dinner there and met some of the other mind visitors. Everyone was lovely. 

As you have probably noticed by now, I am very rambly (not a word but moving on) on my new meds. I am also ravenous all the time, have vivid dreams/nightmares and I am quite fidgety. At the moment they don't seem to be helping much, but hopefully they will in time. 

My worst breakdown so far resulted in me sitting on the floor crying and begging Charlotte to let me cut myself. She held me and let me cry and I didn't cut. I realised yesterday that it is 5 years in May since I last cut myself. I think about it everyday. I want to do it everyday. It never leaves you.

I haven't actually mentioned that now that I am jobless I sit at home every day applying for jobs...On my own. I have my first conversation at about 5:30pm everyday. It's not healthy and it's not helping. 

I tend to snap or be "a bit off" when I have that first conversation. It's hard to explain, but going from the silence of being on your own to the noise of having people around, usually quite suddenly, is difficult and sometimes I just don't know how to react. I find myself constantly apologising for talking because i'm so used to the silence and I can feel myself being a miserable fucking arsehole. 

I have days where I hate that I breath. Other days seem to pass by idly whilst the only thing that make's them interesting is the rejection e-mails. I apply for jobs that I'm terrified of getting because it's so long since i've had an intelligent conversation that i'm scared of fucking up. I cry when my computer crashes and can only think that technology hates me, further projecting the idea that I am an awful human who can't see to do anything right. I desperately apply for jobs that aren't feasible: I mean how is 4 hours cleaning in a country house going to pay the bills, really?! I then get upset when I get a rejection from them. Am I not even good enough to do THAT?! So I give up for another day. Only after I have applied for AT LEAST 4 jobs because 4 is an even number and if it's not an even number it's not right. 

I'm at the lowest i've been in five years. 

And to top it all off, I can't afford counselling anymore and the waiting list is so long that by the time I get counselling I could have killed myself off in my head millions of times. 

I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm frightened. I'm confused. 

Ask me again how I am?

I'm fine. 

Loneliness and being a bad person.

Firstly, may I start by saying that I do not wish to upset anyone with this post. You ave to understand that it is difficult for me to write this, but it has taken me a while to come to terms with what I feel and as difficult as I find it writing things down actually seems to help in some ways. Secondly, I apologise for the lack of posts. I have been feeling particularly bad recently, but not really known how to explain what I feel.

Now, if you know me, you know that I am the sort of person who would do anything for anyone. I'm not trying to blow my own trumpet. What I am saying here is not to make me look like a good person or to "big me up". If you know me at all you know I have no interest in myself. I would go to the ends of the earth and back for the people I care about, actually even for people I don't even know. I buy homeless people food, I donate to charity, I try and stand up for others. I just want everyone to be happy and healthy.

Bearing all that in mind, and knowing that if I saw others do what I do I would think of them as a good person, a worthy person, it is still difficult for me to think of myself in that way. I just don't like to think about myself. I don't care for myself. So when people say "you're so nice", "that is so lovely" and give me other compliments, it is difficult for me to hear because I don't feel that way.

I feel like a horrible person. I honestly don't feel like I deserve happiness. Or friendship. Or love. I mean come on, there is no way I deserve someone as incredible as Charlotte in my life. No way at all.

I'm saying this, because this is how I feel, not because I want you to tell me otherwise and certainly not because I want attention. I feel like a despicable human, even when everyone around me tells me that I am not. Recently this feeling derives from something. For the first time in a long time I've been able to place a finger on what is making me feel this way and here it is.

I have sever depressive disorder, mixed anxiety disorder and post traumatic stress disorder. You know that because I have told you. Whether in this blog, verbally, through a text or an e-mail, a conversation or because I have had to explain myself to you. I am ill. Like really, really unwell. You all know that.

I have been signed off for months now. Something which quiet a lot of you know. Something you don't know is that I quit my job because I felt guilty being paid sickness benefit from a school when I had been given medical advice stating that I may not be ready for work until the summer term 2016. That is a lot of time off work. This is a lot of time off sick when children could be benefiting from the money I was taking. Granted it wasn't a lot. Half of a part time wage is not a lot of money, but I felt so guilty and so poorly that I thought "what is the lesser of two evils here?" and felt it right to quit.

I am not eligible for any benefit because I quit. I currently cannot afford to live so have had to get a part time, 2 month contract job in retail to take me into the New Year. If I don't feel better in the New Year and if I get through the next two months without quitting, I should be eligible for benefit. I can hear you all thinking "Well that is good news isn't it?", "2 months will fly by", "you can do this".

Ever since I got this job I feel like everyone is just expecting me to be so much better and those who haven't expected me to be better have just said "just push through, push it down and plough on". As if I haven't been doing that this whole time. As if pushing down my feelings isn't what made me ill in the first place. As if this whole time I have been off I haven't been trying to get better. As if I'm not ill, i'm just lazy.

Well I have been trying. Every day is like being punched in the gut repeatedly, but I get up and I carry on. I make birthday cakes for people, I go to band jobs when I feel like i'd rather curl up and die, I breath. I keep breathing.

What people don't seem to understand is that the thought of getting through 2 months is terrifying to me because to me, the thought of getting through a day seems improbable, getting through a week seems impossible and getting through a month feels like climbing a mountain.

It's taken me a while to understand this but...I AM NOT FUCKING WELL. It is not healthy to feel how I feel, it is not normal to think about killing yourself every day and it is not okay to think that the world would be better off without you.

The thing is, the only people who truly know that I am still not okay are Charlotte and Hayley because they live with me. They see me everyday and see me at my lowest. I could write a million blog posts but you would not understand what this feels like.

You'll notice this post is called "loneliness and being a bad person". That's because I'm fucking lonely and I resent the fact that since I've become ill I've not had a single person say "get well soon" and that makes me feel like a bad person because as a caring person I understand people have their own stuff going on in their lives so I shouldn't expect people to be there for me.

Depression is an illness like any other. Anxiety is an illness like any other. PTSD is an illness like any other. And by any other I mean like any other PHYSICAL illness. I don't expect get well soon cards and grapes, all I want is for people to realise that mental illness is just as bad as physical illness.

It just sucks that I had to leave a job working with people I really got on with after a year because of an illness and now I don't know if I can get in touch with people I consider good friends because I haven't heard from them and I'm frightened to message them because I think they will be mad at me for leaving and it's been so long now that I feel like they will have moved on. I think of them every day. I miss them every day. It sucks.

It just sucks that I feel like I cannot talk to friends and loved ones because I don't want to hurt them or upset them by talking about how I feel so I haven't spoken to some of them in a while because I know I cannot be there for them fully at this time and that upsets me because I like to think that I am there for my friends whenever they need me.

It just sucks that Charlotte is as heavily effected by all of this as I am because I cry into her arms daily and I can see the pain in her eyes as I do so and it kills me to think that I am upsetting her. It kills me to think that she is burned with all of this because she is my best friend as well as the love of my life and my house mate. This is a lot for one person to be.

It just sucks that I have so many people I consider best/close/good friends but because I don't live near any of them, have £10 to my name so cannot afford to see them and I don't want to be a burden that I have left myself with no one. I have not seen anyone I can talk too other than Charlotte and my councillor in almost 2 months and that just sucks.

I'm not one for feeling sorry for myself. I don't like it. At all. Right now I don't feel sorry for myself I am just depressed and angry.

I am angry because the world we live in still does not recognise depression as as serious as it is and because of that people don't feel the need to ask me if I am okay.

I am so bloody lonely, and I'm a bad person for feeling that way because you all have your stuff and i'm not owed anything.

I just want a friend. No I don't want a friend, I have loads of fantastic friends. I NEED a friend, and there is a big difference.

If any of this has upset you I am sorry. I'm so so sorry. I honestly wish I didn't feel this way but I do.

I just really need a friend.

I'm sorry again, really I am.
Take care,

Rebecca. :)

p.s. If you know someone who is struggling with mental illness please just ask them if they want a catch up. And at that catch up ask them if they are okay. I'm guilty of this too, so right here and now i'm asking, who needs a catch up?

p.p.s. sorry if this upset you, i know i'm a bad person i'm sorry.

Of course it upsets me...I just don't allow myself to feel.

I speak of the days I spent tortured by bullies very bluntly. I can recall hundreds of accounts of bullying, all which make people gasp, some which even make others cry to hear, but I speak of them bluntly. As emotionless as I possibly can be. I always evoke two responses after I have told my tales of woe; "It breaks my heart that this happens to you and I wan't there to stop it" and "aren't you angry or upset by it all". My answers have always remained the same until now; "It's okay, it's not like you are to blame" and "life is too short to waste time worrying about the past".

Today I plan on telling the truth for the first time...

In all honesty, I don't allow myself to feel when it comes to discussing things such as bullying. If I allowed myself to feel I would be left with such excruciating pain I fear it. I fear the pain it may cause. I have often been heard to say "you have to either laugh or cry", but I can't even do that when it comes to my past. Laughter would be out of the question and I fear I would be able to drown in tears if I let myself.

So I don't.

Truth be told, I don't allow myself to have any feelings toward myself at all. I do not care about myself. I do not allow myself to care about myself. Why?

Because it would be too hard, it would be too heartbreaking to.

I know that some people will have cried at my blog posts. I know that some have cried to my face when I have told them my stories. Now imagine that a friend or loved one feels that deeply about something that hasn't happened to them it upsets them, then imagine what it must be like for me, as the person it happened too. Lets do a little experiment to prove my point. I will tell you about a time I was bullied, and if you feel anything, imagine how I must feel and then tell me if you think it would be easy for me.

Here goes:

I was bullied a lot in secondary school. By that I mean the years in which I attended secondary school, not just the place. No, I was the target of bullying from the moment I left home in the morning to the moment I got back. To point where I began being dropped off at school at 7:30 in the morning whilst my amazing mum was on her way to school and then would wait until 5:30 in the evening to be picked up, when my amazing mum would be on her way home from work. One incident on the bus was the final straw to make me change the length of my day so drastically.

My morning bus ride had been pretty much the same as usual. The same people (everyone) calling me the same names (every insult you can relate to being about being fat and/or gay) whilst I had things thrown at me like spit balls, pieces of paper set on fire, rubbish etc. After this journey I decided to take a later bus home then usual. I waited in the library until 4 and got the 4:45 bus. On this bus were three young lads in the same uniform as I. As I sat down they moved from the back of the bus to seats opposite/in front of me. They then spent the next 15 minutes throwing pennies at me and through tears of laughter shouting "buy yourself something nice for valentines day 'cos no one else ever will you fat cow. heifer. ugly fuck." I tried not to cry, I chocked back tears as I kept being hit in the face by their coin tosses. At one point the driver threatened to throw them off, he physically stopped the bus to shout at the boys (wow someone was ACTUALLY sticking up for ME), but if anything it made them worse.

When I got off the bus I walked to a quite space and sobbed to myself before making myself look presentable and walking home. Then I swallowed my pride and tried to forget it. But I couldn't. You can't. You can't forget when someone says such horrible things about you. You cannot forget when someone says you should die because you are a waste of oxygen. You cannot forget being told to kill yourself because you offend someones eyes.

Now, go back to before when I asked you to imagine what I would feel, if I let myself feel, based on what you feel after reading this. You can't can you?

I shall tell you. It's bloody awful. When I let myself feel for myself it is dark, twisty, scary, terrifying, loud and bloody scary. So for years now I haven't let myself feel or care about myself. I have thundered on. Through secondary school. Through college. Through Uni. Into adulthood. And what am I left with? I am a broken shell of someone I might have once known and loved. I spend days so emotionally broken I cannot function. I cannot function because I won't allow myself to feel properly. I don't really know where all my pain comes from because I have spent years of my life perfecting the art of hiding my pain and blocking out my memories.

I am trying to reach into the darkness and face head on some very heartbreaking memories but it is hard. It drains me. Mentally and physically drain me.

But I am trying.

I am trying to feel better. I am trying to be better. I am trying to let myself feel again. More then that I am trying to let myself care about myself. To live I have to care about myself and it is a terrifying  thought because I'm not too sure that I want to care about me...I think it will be too upsetting to care about me. But I will continue to try.

So please bare with me. This could get messy.

Thanks for reading and keep smiling,

Rebecca :)

P.S. If you or anyone you know is suffering from bullying in any capacity, ask them to speak up and support them while they do. I didn't have any fight left in me when I tried to speak up, please don't let others go through this. Please.

It isn't always easy...but it is always amazing.

I am fortunate enough to be able to say I am madly in love with someone who loves me back.  It is an incredible feeling to find your one true love, your soul mate, whatever you want to call your significant other. My significant other is the beautiful Charlotte.

Myself and Charlotte have been together 19 months and have known each other for 2 years. In our time together we have been through things that some married couples may not have even faced. Well that is what my councillor tells me. Charlotte has seen the best of me, I like to believe she brings the best out of me, but Charlotte has also seen me at rock bottom. During our time together I have had some of the darkest days of my life. There have been days when Charlotte has had to pick me up off the floor and hold me whilst I sob. There sometimes is no reason for my tears, or I can't explain the pain I feel, Charlotte only holds me tighter. I always apologise as I hate the thought of hurting her, but I know that every time I cry it pains her. Sometimes we end up crying together, and it ends up being a massive circle of tears as I cry when Charlotte cries and Charlotte cries when I cry.

Now you may be reading this and thinking "soft sod's", but the truth is, our relationship is very strong because of our ability to confide in each other and that is what I believe set's us apart. Don't get me wrong, like every couple we have our moments, but these tend to stem from a misunderstanding due to my mood or my anxiety. I might think Charlotte is mad at me, or Charlotte may believe I am mad at her, when really Charlotte has had a stressful day and I am frustrated because I can't express my feelings or my brain has stopped mid sentence or I am frustrated that I am stuck in this shitty situation. Saying this, we never go to bed angry because our belief is "life is too short".

You may wonder why I am rambling on about my one true love. The truth is that depression and anxiety, whilst having a massive impact on how close we are, have also got in the way too. Being in love whilst one of the couple suffers with depression/anxiety is bloody hard work. Why? It is hard to explain at times but I will give it a go.

First of all, I don't like to share. I feel like a burden. I don't the thought of someone else being burdened by my thoughts/feelings and I feel selfish when I share. We all know that one of the biggest things in a relationship is the importance of sharing and being open. It took me longer then it would most people to share with Charlotte because I love her so much that I don't want to be the thing or person that makes her sad in any way. Secondly, I have been hurt a lot in the past. I have been the person that someone doesn't want, but that they also don't want anyone else to have. This has happened to me more then once and because of this I fear being hurt. I have felt deep pain before now and it terrifies me to be completely open because what if it happens again? My brain is on overdrive most of the time, and it rarely focusses on what I wish it would. For example, in a crowd of people I will notice the 1 person out of 20 who is point me out to make a joke, rather than the beautiful person smiling at me, telling me it is okay, telling me they think I am beautiful. My anxiety sometimes means that going out can be difficult because I am on edge. I have panic attacks which can lead to asthma attacks or I can completely shut down and become very quiet and not really speak.

Having depression and anxiety and spending as much time together as myself and Charlotte do means that I am exposing the rawest part of me, and that is painful to me as, like I said before, I do not wish to be a burden.

Now, imagine trying to have a normal, run of the mill relationship whilst dealing with excess tears, huge walls that need to be broken down and extreme anxiety that can cause me to question everything as I know it. Also imagine that Charlotte hasn't had depression/anxiety before, so is having to deal with all of this whilst learning about two serious illness just to keep up with me. Sounds tough, right?

Well here is where I get gush again, because Charlotte has been nothing short of incredible. Not only does her beautiful spirit and outlook keep me going, but her desperation to help me beat this illness means that we share more than I have with anyone else before. A wall that was once so high that the thought of breaking it down on my own left me in tears is broken down in one fell swoop by Charlotte and her words of encouragement and although I may still feel the pain where that wall once existed, Charlotte is always there to hand me painkillers in the form of a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead. Charlotte gets me to talk about self harm with her when she can tell it is on my mind, and when I struggle to express myself she tells me it's okay and waits patiently as it takes me days/weeks/months to find a way to say how I feel. You may think I'm cheesy writing all this, telling you that Charlotte is my best friend and one true love, but it is all true. 

I started this blog for myself. I wanted to try and express some of my feelings and try and help others in the process. Well this post is about more then that. It is a thank you. A thank you to an incredible girl who has been so incredibly patient, so unbelievably strong and so bloody brilliant with this girl who doesn't know where she would be without her. So thank you Charlotte, my beautiful girl. 

If you are lucky enough to have a Charlotte in your life, whether your Charlotte comes in the form of a friend, a boyfriend, a mother or father, a best friend or sister, go and thank them now. Tell them how much you love them and how thankful you are for them, and if they ask "where has this come from?" say "I needed you to know".

My anxiety means that sometimes I question whether or not Charlotte knows how thankful I am for her and how much I love her. On Sunday 30th September at 3:20pm my anxiety was shut up forever when Charlotte asked me a very important question that made me know that she knows...

I SAID YES!

Celebrating in Style!

CHEERS everyone!

 That's right ladies and gentle folk, this ball of emotion has a wedding to plan!! So thank you Charlotte, for always putting my mind at ease, for trying to understand me when I don't really understand myself most if the time, and for giving me an incredibly happy memory as I battle through some of my darkest memories to try and get well. Thank you for being my rock in this storm, my inspiration to carry on and always there for me. I love you beautiful girl.

As always, thanks for reading everyone and thanks for bearing with on the post front...as you can probably tell I have been a bit busy celebrating!

Chin up, and if you need me I am always here,

Rebecca :)

p.s. Charlotte beat me too it by two weeks...at least I know she will say yes when I ask...or I hope so! (Damn anxiety strikes again)!

Who am I?

"Who am I?" is probably one of life's most frequently asked questions. I am sure everyone has questioned who they truly are at some point in their life. Whether you have been looking into a career change, you are questioning your sexuality, your faith, your spirituality. Who you are is questioned often, and usually by yourself.

My version of "who am I?" stems much deeper then figuring out a preference or a belief and it fills me with worry and dread every single day.

The truth is, I struggle to remember who I was before depression. I know that the last time I was truly depression free was at the age of 11/12, before I went to secondary school (or as I like to call it, before hell on earth). I know that I liked music as I was in a brass band. I knew I liked art but was never as good as I wished to be. I struggled to spell and hated maths. I know I lied about my reading ability as I was ashamed that I could not read quickly. I know I liked to do what I could to make others smile. All of this is still true, but I still do not know who I truly am.

I can state facts:

• I'm gay.
• I'm fat.
• I'm quite tall.
• I have big feet.
• I have hazel green eyes.
• I have brown hair.

But these facts do not tell me who I am. 

I exist, but is that enough?

Depression takes a lot away from you. It effects more then just your mood. If you have never experienced depression or known someone who has suffered intimately, you may not know how bad depression can be. 

For me depression has taken a lot away from me. My memory is terrible. I struggle to sleep. My mind has no "off switch" and constantly races with thoughts and feelings. I physically ache; my joints, my head, my eyes. Everything hurts at some point or another. I have no control of my mood. It isn't all crying and being sad. Sure there are times when I sob and don't really know why, but more times then not I feel like I need to cry but can't. I physically cannot cry and it makes me so mad. SO ANGRY. I can cry for other people but not for me...all of this is just a tiny part of how depression effects me on a daily basis. 

Now imagine going through all that when you are trying to figure out who you are. All through hell on earth I was supposed to be growing and developing and learning, not just about the world but about who I am too. This couldn't happen for me as I spent the whole time pretending to be someone who I am not. I pretended to be the happy, jolly Becca a lot of people know me to be. I have had so many messages from people saying that they had no clue before this blog that I was suffering in such a sever way, and that is because I perfected the art of being okay when I wasn't.

As I continue to grow all I know is how to show that I am okay when I am not. Maybe useful in a business setting when an angry boss is yelling at you, sure I could deal with that but now I need to do completely the opposite. I need to show how I am feeling.

If I want to beat this I need to be true to who I am...but after years of perfecting a character for myself I don't know who that is. I feel like I am a completely blank canvas...and it is terrifying.

So please bear with me because there are many changes I need to make in myself. From being more open and more true to who I am, to allowing myself to care about myself. The scariest of all these changes is allowing myself to be a person. To not just exist in a state of limbo, but to truly find out who I am...because the truth is...I HAVE NO CLUE OF WHO I AM...but I know I need to find the time to find out.

Thank you for taking the time to read, sending positive thoughts you way,

Rebecca :)

Coping Strategies [TW: Self Harm/Self Injury/Secret Eating/Suicide].

TW [meaning]: TW stands for Trigger Warning. A trigger warning is a warning of what is discussed in the below post so those who may be effected by what they read can choose whether or not to read the blog straight away.

This post discusses Self Harm, Self injury, Secret/Binge eating and Suicide. If you feel this may trigger you in any way, please do not continue to read. Thank you.

TRIGGER [meaning]: A trigger can be anything that makes you feel something. For example, the smell of fresh cut grass can make you remember playing in the park with your friends when you were ten and can make you feel happy. This can happen in a negative way too and can cause emotional pain, leading to physical pain in those who are vulnerable to certain subject matter. This is why a TW will be used when/where necessary.


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May marked 4 years since I last cut myself. A huge achievement in some respects, highly painful to think and speak about in others.

I was 17 when I was first officially diagnosed with depression. I was in my second year at college doing 4 A-Levels following successful AS level results. My first year at college was the happiest I had been in a long time, mainly because the relentless bullying had turned into maybe once a day name calling, which was okay by me. All through secondary school I had been bullied. I couldn't go 15 minutes without someone having something horrible to say to me, so going from that to once a day seemed like a breeze! Many people will probably be reading this and thinking "but whether it is once a day or once every 15 minutes, bullying is not okay." All I can say is, I got used to it. The point is, my time at college was amazing...until it wasn't. In my second year I began to break down for may a reason (of which I am sure I will discuss in future posts). I rang my mum in tears at every opportunity, but didn't know why I was crying. I started becoming breathless if I was surrounded by a large group of people. I started to depend on cutting myself. Cutting became my coping mechanism.

I was 13 years old when I first cut myself. I used a blade from a pencil sharpener. I didn't really understand what I was doing and in the end turned to food rather then a blade for help. I became a secret eater all through my time at secondary school (not helping me as the bullies mainly focused on my weight). When I broke down at 17 food wasn't enough though.

A sugar rush wasn't enough to cure the despair and sadness I felt.

I am the sort of person who, when dealing with stressful situations, will do so much to take my mind off what is in my head, that I will run myself into the ground. But I always kept going. At 17, even this wasn't working for me. So that is why I started cutting.

Actually, that last sentence is wrong. I cut myself because it made me feel in control of my emotions. Imagine, you have no control of how you feel or how you react to every situation, no matter how hard you try, 24 hours, 7 days a week. What you are imagining now does not come close to how helpless that actually makes you feel. Although it would only ever take me seconds to seriously cut myself, in those seconds I felt something I couldn't feel otherwise. I was in control. Yes, I was in control of causing myself pain, but in those seconds, pain felt amazing, because it wasn't the dark pit of despair, loneliness and sadness that the rest of the days and nights were filled with. Although food wasn't working for me in the same way it did when I was in secondary school, I still kept secretly binge eating. It's how I kept going. Eat, cut, eat, cut eat cut and keep it all a secret. "I've sprained my wrist. A girls night in isn't the same without chocolate. I fell over, how clumsy I am HAHA".

I honestly think that without the secret binge eating, the cutting and my amazing mum who put up with me crying for no reason, finding me in my own blood and helping me clean it up, forcing me to go to the doctors for the first time, I wouldn't have finished my A Levels. I know that it is sad to think, but for me it is true.

I haven't cut myself in 4 years. I'm currently doing slimming world and have lost 1 stone 7 pounds in 13 weeks.

After around a year off anti-depressents, in November last year I was placed back on them. I had been avoiding going to the doctors. Everything was fine. Except it wasn't.

As the months have gone on my illness has got worse and worse. It has gotten to the point that I have been unable to work and function properly. I went through a stage of scratching, where I would itch and scratch at my skin until I bled and it scarred. Again I tried to hide it, but it's a bit hard when you are in a relationship.

Still, I haven't cut myself. I haven't started to secretly binge eat.

You're probably thinking "Amazing", "what an achievement" or "oh thank goodness". This isn't how I feel.

You see, I won't cut myself/binge eat because I don't want to let people down. I don't want to let my amazing mum down and I don't want to put her through that again. I don't want my incredible girlfriend to see or feel that pain. I don't want to do this to them.

I don't care about me. At all. In any way. If those I cared about turned around and said "you have 10 minutes to do whatever you want and we cannot have feelings about what you do in that time" the only uncut flesh on my body would be where my thigh tattoo is and where my hair is. I would eat so much chocolate and crap that I would be sick, but I would just continue eating. I would kill myself.

But they won't. So I can't.

I can't do it to them. I just can't. Reading this will probably be very difficult for those who care about me, it may even upset them, but hear me when I say, I care for you you so much that I cannot and will not cut myself. I cannot and will not binge eat. I cannot and will not kill myself.

I cannot and will not hurt you in that way, because I care for you so damn much.

The reason I am writing this blog is to try and get better by getting my feelings out. Well here it is, here is how I feel most of the time:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

My mind is dark. I have always described my depression, and how I cope with negative things by using this analogy:

Imagine my brain as a beautiful meadow, with my favourite flowers blooming and the sun shining. The meadow is separated in the middle by a very fast flowing, pitch black river. The meadow is my happy memories and the river is all of the bad memories; all of the memories I am trying to forget and not think about. Well, depression to me is when the banks of that fast flowing river have burst and the pitch black water is covering all of the thoughts and memories that could possibly let me feel happy.

My anxiety is described by this analogy:

The aforementioned swamp in my head is constantly changing in depth. My conscience is looking at the water and thinking "Oh my god what is lurking underneath? I don't want to know but I do but I don't. Oh no the water is getting deeper, it's getting closer to me. What if it touches me? I could drown. Do I want to drown? I don't know. I don't like this. I don't like this. I don't like this". Thoughts like this constantly keep my consciousness busy. So erratic and busy that dealing with situations becomes difficult.

My PTSD is described by this analogy:

There is something lurking below the dark water. There are lots of things lurking below the dark water. These "things" are controlling the depth of the water AND my consciousness's worry, but are also making it difficult for me to deal with.

All are linked. The only way I can beat my depression is by dealing with the negative things that have happened in my life head on, but my anxiety keeps me from going this as I don't want to feel the pain that I can remember.

Imagine now that the only way I have dealt with this before, the only way I have kept my emotions in check and managed to function before is by cutting and binge eating. Neither of which I can do.

Yep: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

So how am I coping this time?

I don't know. I'm finding it very, very difficult. I don't have a go to thing anymore. If I feel despair I don't have chocolate to go to or a blade to use. I DO NOT HAVE A COPING MECHANISM. I'm finding it hard to enjoy things I used to love, especially music. I force myself to draw or practice when I feel like crap. But it doesn't help in the same way and I don't think anything ever will.

There is a difference between 17 year old me and 23 year old me dealing with this though. I have cut out people in my life who don't deserve my time. I have only good people around me who I love and who love me. I am experimenting with anti depressants and understand the importance of seeing my doctor, taking the pills and have accepted that I am not okay. These were things I were too ashamed to do previously. I have a councillor and a doctor who have diagnosed me and who are helping me work through my problems. I am being selfish, in a good way- I am taking the time to get better which means me taking time for myself.

I haven't changed. I will always do whatever I can to help those around me. I'd give my last pound to someone who needed it more then me. I will always drop everything if someone I love or care about needs me, even if they wouldn't do that for me. I continue to talk to the little old lady at the bus stop who just want's a conversation for the first time in the day. I will always give, but as I have been told by almost everyone I have spoken too, until I understand that I am a good person, I do not deserve to feel the way I am and things will get better, I need to take some time for myself. I need to delve into things I don't really want to and I need to care about myself (lord knows how long that will take!).

This post has been a long one today and has taken a lot out of me. I feel very emotional, but I am assured that speaking about these things will help. If you have got this far, thank you for reading my waffle. I appreciate that you really don't have to, so thank you.

Thank you for your support, sending positive thoughts your way,

Rebecca :)

P.S. If any of this has upset you and you need someone to talk to, please do not hesitate to speak to me, or follow the useful contacts link in the previous post to find professional help.