#ALSIceBucketChallenge

Hello!

Today, I did the Ice Bucket Challenge for ALS. 

Please watch and share the video to raise money and awareness. 

Thank you!

#ALSIceBucketChallenge 

An Incoming Storm.

******TRIGGER WARNING******

There's an incoming storm today though the sky is full of bright, yellow light and it would seem as if all hope were housed in the sunshine. I did some Feng Shui stuff to my room this weekend and made it into a much more productive space for working and relaxing. The sun now shines upon my face. An hour ago this would have made for a very different picture than it does now. I was happy an hour ago that I had completed so much in a few hours of being awake and I was beating depression's ass quite well. Having been downstairs and mentioned one tiny thing about a police woman and a video statement to my house mate; she launched into a story about the film she had seen the night before on the television - long story short - there's incest. I got the full and detailed description from my house mate. Why? I didn't ask for that. 

When faced with somebody who opens up a little bit about their own life; people just shouldn't assume that it means they want to hear about other people who suffered the same or worse. That doesn't help. I feel guilty and sick about my own life. I lived through my own nightmare growing up and I still live through it now due to my PTSD. I feel guilty that my pain takes up NHS funding to deal with it when somebody else could have that help. I don't need to hear about other people being abused. It's abhorrent that it happens to anybody at all. The worst nightmare children should have to deal with is a monster under the bed; nothing more.

Telling me a story about abuse when I'm questioning my entire childhood doesn't help. I feel sick. I feel worthless. The only thing that I can succeed at right now is to cut my wrist. I don't want to but this pain in my chest is overwhelming and the only way that I know to get rid of it is to cut. Old scars become new scars. Emotional pain becomes physical pain. Physical pain is easy to deal with. 

"I use pain to deal with pain." ~4

Robin Williams.

******TRIGGER WARNING******

The world lost a great man today. He was intelligent, funny and very much loved by a lot of people; not just his family. Robin Williams died today and the police suspect that he committed suicide. The online world has been shocked by this news and it was met with real sadness and love. I didn't know him personally and you probably didn't either but he made a difference to my life. 

I often struggle to remember happy times during my childhood and off the top of my head I wouldn't be able to tell you any but this man was loved by all of my family. Sitting in front of a family show like Flubber or Jumanji was a peaceful time for our family but we especially loved Mrs Doubtfire and would always gather to watch it if it was showing on the TV at Christmas or throughout the year. There were many laughs to be had and mutual happiness to be felt. There was no abuse; no beatings, no shouting, nothing to make me cry from fear or pain. I can tell you that I was as happy as I could be during those moments when my family was doing what most families do; something normal. 

Depression can affect anybody at any time of their lives and it doesn't matter where they live. There are children, teenagers, youths, adults and older adults committing suicide right now. Robin Williams was 63 and depression affected him; ending in the worst outcome but I hope he has found peace now and that his demons no longer attack him. 

Robin Williams may have outwardly been one of the happiest and funniest people on TV but that doesn't mean that he didn't have problems. He was rich but depression doesn't care about wealth or status. I have seen comments from people saying that it can't be true for Robin Williams to have committed suicide because "he didn't seem the type". What does that mean? Is there a type for depression? Does a person look inside the bag of illnesses and think, "Yep, that's the illness to suit me". Nobody picks depression. Nobody chooses to feel so worthless that getting out of bed becomes a struggle. 

If somebody dies from cancer, nobody says, "they didn't seem the type". Have some respect and take this illness with the severity that it demands. Depression takes more lives than cancer does but there is less funding for it and it is still very much a taboo subject. Don't underestimate this illness and don't just assume that somebody is happy and perfectly fine just because they appear to never stop smiling. We never know what goes on in people's lives unless we experience it ourselves or have an inside view. 

Depression deserves to be seen and spoken about. Depression is an illness. It takes lives.  It demands to be taken as seriously as cancer or raging wars. It can affect us all.

If you suspect that you or somebody you know suffers from depression, then please seek help. It is a sign of courage to ask for help; not a sign of weakness. 

Numbers To Call

Please check the link below for links to suicide prevention lines. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines 

Freedom.

******TRIGGER WARNING******

I was free from The Monster for 8 days. They were long days and I heard him tapping away in my head but I ignored him. Sometimes, it was really difficult. I thought that having a friend to stay would make it easier but it turns out that it was much harder than I thought. I’ve waited to write this because I wasn’t sure of the words to say about it. I loved having the company. I loved that there was somebody there worrying about me and that I was accountable to another human being so I couldn’t just cave in to The Monster or go for a walk to shut him up. Much as I loved it, I was always anxious. When you’re depressed, a whole day can seem like a lifetime sometimes and a week can feel like an eternity. I don’t know how to express how grateful I am that I had one of my best friends here for that long; Lord knows she got the raw end of the deal with the things she had to listen to and we know it’s never fun hanging out with somebody who is depressed. I am truly grateful; I am. But The Monster in my head is pissed off. I couldn’t find the words before to say how difficult it is to hold it together for somebody else.

During those 8 days, I had laughs and food and I made it to all of my appointments. I spent time doing things with another living person instead of sitting alone in my room. I barely slept though and if I did sleep; it was at the wrong times and for the wrong reasons. I remember not wanting to wake her up because she needed to sleep. I remember staring at my anti-depressants and just wishing for a quick end and for my head to stop causing so much torment when I had exactly what I wanted; a friend and to not be alone. It just wouldn’t stop. Bang, bang, bang. Over and over again with no reprieve. I stared at the spot where I knew my razor blade was. I longingly looked at it. I couldn’t touch it. It wouldn’t be very fair to let her wake up the next day and find me in a worse mess than before she went to sleep. So I sat in my tent. I rocked backwards and forwards. I cried as silently as I could. I tried not to let on how tired I was or how scared I was that the minute she left I would cave.

One day, she went to see a friend in London. That was a difficult day for me because I knew even before she left what I wanted to do and what I thought I deserved to do. I didn’t do it. The guilt that I thought I would feel to see her face if she came back and I’d cut myself was worse than the guilt I was feeling. I hate myself but it’s not fair to make other people see the pain you’re in. I want to, all of the time I want to prove just how much it hurts and that’s why it’s a compulsion to cut or to be sick but it isn’t fair on other people. Being selfish, yes – there’s no way to avoid that but it can’t be seen and when it can be seen, it can’t be believed. For me; to commit suicide is to be selfless. My depression tells me that I am a burden on society. It tells me that I shouldn’t ask for help every week from a counsellor because maybe an 11 year old deserves the help more than I do. Maybe they’re not as messed up as me or maybe they didn’t do as many bad things as my depression tells me I did. So, for me, if I committed suicide, I would be saving a lot of people from a lot of bother. I already know I’ve had people walk out of my life because it was too difficult to be there. I don’t hold it against them. It’s hard to be a friend to somebody who is depressed because it’s relentless and it’s so damn repetitive and honestly, if I didn’t know what it was like to be this way and live like this, I probably wouldn’t want to try as hard as my friends do to be a friend to me. Depression is draining on everybody. It drains NHS money. It drains friendships and relationships. It drains the people that it affects. Mental Health issues are draining on our society and we’re told so many times to just, “get on with it”, “be happy”, “try harder”, “just stop being sad” and so we take the problem away. We kill ourselves to save you from being drained. Jesus died to forgive us our sins. We die so you don’t have to moan about money being spent on us instead of Cancer Care. We kill ourselves because life is miserable for us but we don’t want it to be miserable for you.

My friend went a few days ago. Predictably, she had been gone a few hours and I’d already cut myself. It was a release for me. Now, it is three days later and I can proudly say that I am self-harm free for my third day. This is an achievement for me at this present time. I do not care about the past right now and I do not care about the possible screw ups of the future. I am here and I am fighting; for my life, for the chance to have a future and to become a person who changes the lives of young people who think they are a drain on society (because they’re told they are). I don’t know if writing this here is the cowardly way of telling my best friend how difficult it was but keeping things bottled up never helps; something she tells me a lot and so here I am, baring the truth to her eternally in my writing.

The funny thing is, I know that she’s reading this and maybe she’s crying, maybe she’s not but I know for sure that she’s saying, “Why didn’t you just wake me up?” I couldn’t. It’s easier to share how bad things are and how I’ve done silly things when I’m typing it. It takes more courage to tell somebody in person and I’m still fresh off my breaking down in front of the counsellor suicidal night and the memories of being so pathetic that don’t fill me with pride.

I’m lucky, really. I have friends who will stand by me no matter what. They may not always understand but they stick by my side and do what they can to make me see the good in the world; the good in myself. Thank You, All <3.

This is the end of my third self-harm free day. I am free right now. I am alive.