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The Journey I Took and Will Always Be Taking

"Stop hating yourself for everything you're not and start loving yourself for everything that you already are."

By Renee WellsPublished 6 years ago 6 min read
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As the title of this blog states, I consider the constant attempt to prevent my mental illness from affecting my everyday life to be an on going journey. Now, universally, the notion of a journey is commonly associated with arriving at some kind of destination. Well, sorry to disappoint, but personally I don't believe there will ever be a moment where that destination is reached. But it's not all a Snow Patrol album, don't worry!

The reasoning behind my belief is simply this: once you spill a glass of water, you are able to wipe it up. What you can't do, however, is reverse that fact that it was spilt in the first place.

This is how I view my mental illness—it will always be there and it will always be part of who I am, a fact that I have come to accept (not without emotional difficulty) and no matter the extent to which the medication I take is the equivalent of that tissue wiping the water away, the water will always have been spilt.

"You're just a teenager, it'll pass."

Since I can remember, I had always had these weird kind of waves of sadness, as Tumblr as it sounds. Naturally, I put this down to teenage angst and left it at that. However, as time passed and as I grew older I started to realise that how I was feeling was beyond what was rational.

Quickly it became apparent that the smallest things would make me feel paranoid and extremely overwhelmed to the point where I felt like I had to cancel plans or pretend that I had something I was doing so that it wouldn't seem so weird. This would cause me such upset I cannot even illustrate it sufficiently with an adjective.

So, I thought to myself... right, if I can't pluck up the courage to go and speak to someone about it then I'm screwed. I knew deep down that it would be frightening spilling all the weird strange things I felt to a complete stranger but I knew 100% that it would be better than feeling helpless again.

Finally I went and sought professional help. I sauntered over to the waiting area where many faces of all ages and shapes dropped as if they were melting. I felt awful and irritable and as cliche as it sounds, I could feel my heart thumping against my chest.

I mean, I was bloody terrified!

Anyway, my name got called out and I got all socially awkward and dropped my bag as I got up and probably looked like a right twat. I made my way to the room on the screen and once I was in, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. To this day, I will always be fascinated by the power that opening up to someone provides a person with.

A number of symptoms of anxiety were explained to me and I was then asked if any of them related to how I was feeling. It was pretty evident that I had been suffering with anxiety from at least the age of 8. After the discussion we had, she prescribed me the appropriate medication.

So, I thought this was it and that this magic pill i'd been given was the answer to all of my prayers and that I could finally just move on but this wasn't the situation that I found myself in.

As things began to deteriorate further, I just remember thinking, what the actual fuck is wrong with me and why do I feel like this?

And Then There's the Guilt

There was definitely a level of guilt that I felt for feeling the way I did. As if I didn't already feel like my body was just a game of emotional Jenga, I felt guilty for having a mental illness because I am so blessed with the family I have and the friends who care for me. I feel like many people in my position can really empathise with this because it is just the icing on an already lopsided, badly mixed cake.

University O'Clock

Yeah... So after I had successfully completed the stress that was A-levels, I had managed by some miracle to get accepted into my first choice university with an unconditional offer. Obviously I was absolutely buzzing! I couldn't believe it and at the same time I knew just how much it meant to me and how much hard work I put into my studies.

The first year of university was all I had expected and to be honest, it made me realise that there was a reason for my introverted personality and extreme mood changes; but still, I shrugged it off.

By my second year of university I could no longer just shrug it off. I had sunk so low. These were just some of the behaviours I was exhibiting:

  • Sleep in for hours just to pass the time.
  • Would actually pray for that day to come to an end so that I could just forget about everything around me.
  • Didn't eat or get dressed. This included taking pride in my appearance
  • Wouldn't brush my hair or make an effort to look nice like I usually tried to.
  • Cut off friends or family because socialising wasn't an option anymore.

After it got to the worst point it could, I decided to just go to my GP. It was an emotional discussion to say the least. She told me that just by looking at me she could tell I wasn't okay and that I had been battling with depression. The start of my journey to accepting this was with medication and counselling. I felt privileged to have received help unlike so many silent sufferers.

The one thing I realised was how selfish the illness is; when my own friends tried to contact me I would just shut my phone off because I didn't want to speak to anyone at all. Socialising had become something I didn't look forward to. I would dread social situations and events. I honestly did not recognise myself and I was so scared about it. Some of the darkest thoughts entered my mind and threatened to jeopardise my future. I could actually physically feel myself about to go on what I've heard is 'a downer.'

During this period I feel like I'm no good for anything or anyone and it sounds crazy to an outsider, but I actually at one point thought people were out to get me... I had spent so much time in solitude, I began to only trust myself, which only increased my paranoia.

I just never in a million years thought I would ever feel this way. I know I will always live with this; it's just how you live with it that counts.

This is why I wanted to start my blog. I wanted to tell my story because I want to make other people who are going through something similar to know that even if you don't have that belief in yourself to seek the help you need and deserve then at least one person believes in you. At least one other person, that woman who lives next door, that man who works in the local shop, can say, "You're a sufferer? Me too."

This brings me onto an important point. What frustrated me the most through this journey was being slightly held back by the ignorance of some people to invalidate the severity of someone's mental illness based on the fact that their circumstances "weren't as bad as his/hers, so why is he/she depressed?" This is complete rubbish. Everyone is different, everyone has a story, so respect it.

I have truly come to appreciate that everyone's mind works differently and that we all have different coping mechanisms.

We might suffer from the same illness together, but it is T O G E T H E R that we suffer differently.

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About the Creator

Renee Wells

20 | NTU English & Creative Writing Student, Published Author and Blogger!

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