Living with Depression and PTSD

I have thought long and hard regarding writing about my experience with mental health issues. Often, my self-deprecating depression will stay my hand at pressing "publish," or my PTSD will conjure up some crippling flashback to the past. But today, it felt right to talk about it; it felt right to share this with the world. Depression and PTSD take many different forms for many different people, so I don't by any means claim to be an expert. The goal is to show anyone in a dark place, anyone struggling to cope, that they are not alone.

Many of my day-to-day activities have been affected by my mental health, and to many who don't have these conditions, the problems I see may seem "silly." For example, a wave of fear and dread washes over me at the thought of having to walk to my car alone in the dark from work, or walking to the shops. My brain is constantly buzzing with all the worst-case scenarios, and how these will play out, which feeds into the anxiety left by the trauma. Most of the time I end up a panicked and shaky mess, unable to actually function like a "normal" 22-year-old woman, and resort to simply staying put, not going outside of my comfort zone. Again these reactions may seem odd, but to me the fear is very real, and I know that my brain never functioned this way before I was assaulted.

The fact that I see beyond my illness is possibly one of the most frustrating and upsetting element. I am trapped in this dark and terrifying cage, and I can see the ways and means to unlock the door, but my mind will do everything in its power to stop me from reaching out to do it. I mean, I don't blame it. It is trying to block out some of the worst memories of my life. My body thinks it is protecting me, but in reality it is keeping me prisoner in this cycle. Whenever there is a moment of clarity and relief from the "big black dog" that depression is, the world is not a scary place, and not everything needs to be analysed meticulously to work out whether it is inherently good or bad. But there is often something said, something mentioned offhand, a place that jogs a memory, and the depression rolls back in like a suffocating storm.

The Stigma

One of the main external issues that I have found in terms of my illness is that there is still, even in 2017, a stigma attached to admitting that your mental health isn't perfect. In the three years since I was first diagnosed as depressed, I have been told to "snap out of it," that I am "crazy" and simply "playing the victim for attention," along with many other similar or more small-minded views. Having PTSD has also led to a lot of confusion, as there are those who believe one can only get PTSD after having fought in a war and survived. This is simply not the case, although this is one of the most covered causes in popular media. People still don't seem to grasp that having mental illnesses wasn't a choice. Boredom didn't cause me to create a story and pretend to be depressed out of some sick need for attention. I would give so much to not be wired the way I am, but that is how life has played out and I will work with the cards I am dealt.

What has been said here may make it sound like miserable is my default state, and during my darker days it is. There are, however, rays of light in my life: my family, loving boyfriend, and the job I do. These elements are consistent and help me to feel stable in the midst of mental instability. In these moments I feel control, and I realise that I can beat this, it will just take time. I struggle, but that is fine. It is okay to admit that you are struggling, and it is okay to ask for help.

To anyone who feels the same as I do, faces the same struggles: you are not alone.