Depression For Me

Written By Amy Steadman

Author Bio: I write in the moment, with no filter to my feelings. I am honest, open minded. - Social Media Links: @amysteadmann

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How I try to cope with my depression.

Depression for me, is a predator that silently creeps up on me and knocks me down when I least expect it. I have no explanation for this. I wish I did, but I don’t. I am the girl who aims to make everyone laugh in a desperate attempt to escape from my own mind. Because I buzz off the laughter I occasionally get from those around me; but that’s not enough. It’s never enough. What is enough? I could have everything I’d ever want and it still wouldn’t be enough because depression is greedy and it sucks the life and soul out of everything. I don’t know what I’m longing for and I doubt I’ll ever find it in this lifetime.

Life is one of the most contradicting things we ever go through. Life is way too short and life is also one of the longest things we’ll ever go through. Life is tough and life is good. A rollercoaster of emotions except you can’t get off this ride, unless you choose to throw yourself off of course. Tempting thought some days, other days I’m glad I didn’t. Writing for me started out as a therapeutic healing and coping mechanism that I started using when I realised after years of countless counsellors that talking verbally just wasn’t for me. It hadn’t helped like I initially thought it would. It made me worse. I began writing so that my thoughts had a release route from my brain to elsewhere. For once thoughts weren’t whizzing round in my head, they were out in front of me, set in stone and solid. 

You’re probably confused and rightly so, because so am I. If I simply cannot talk about my issues, how can I write? I haven’t figured that out yet, all I know is that writing is a positive experience for me, but also a very scary experience. I’m not just opening myself up to one person in a small room (which seems like the easier option) I’m opening myself up to hundreds of people who I don’t even know. People warm to openness though, especially in a vulnerable way. Some may find it easier talking to a counsellor who can give so many answers and help piece things together and so on, with my writing I’ve found I manage to reach out to people on the same level they are. I relate. I somehow manage to help a few people which in reality is a fantastic combination. 

From the experiences I’ve had within my life I didn’t always have someone alongside me who I felt comfortable to reach out to that had been through the same thing. Many people hold their personal lives really close to their heart and even though I’m not able to talk to the people who have been through similar situations to myself, sometimes a piece of writing does the trick in the moment. You read it and instantly feel the “hey I’m not alone in this” which for me was a massive relief, because that person who wrote that is still here, able to tell their story. No matter how hard, emotional, scary they got there. 

Many people will read this and say I’m using mental health issues as a cry for attention, when in fact I’m not. I’m trying to help. Help show people that no matter how bad life is, there’s a tiny bit of good in every aspect, it’s still there, you just have to find it. This morning I went to work and whilst I was there I wished I hadn’t woken up, my mind was racing, and my eyes were bloodshot. I came home, I cried for about three hours straight, I took a nap. I talked, a lot actually. General conversation to be exact, and then I went for a drive, alone into the countryside. I saw horses, fields and a clear blue sky. The radio played and I drifted into another world, my concentration still being on the road of course but the world wasn’t whizzing. 

Just because you don’t love the world right now, the world still loves you.

So for those who are like me, the ones who don’t know how to ask for help, or haven’t found their escape yet; I write for you.