What am I Doing Here?
Sometimes, often, I find myself completely and utterly lost in my day to day thoughts. Although these are no ordinary thoughts I swear by it. My paranoia consumes me and I fear that I am losing more of myself as the year progresses.
So, where am I today?
After spending the last 9 years of my life in the beautiful country of New Zealand (which I will always consider one of my homes) I have finally returned to my birth country. GREAT BRITAIN. Leaving my mother and brother, step father, friends and beloved pets behind me. Something I am becoming all too familiar with. In this moment I am currently in bed where I now reside near Tadcaster, Leeds/York. To be honest I’m not even entirely sure if it’s York or Leeds where my location is so for now I’ll go with both.
Another thing I am uncertain of (Ha, the list is truly endless) is how much I would like to “get off my chest” in this post. Never in my life have a written a blog post or anything similar. Closest thing to it was writing in a diary however words scrawled on a piece of crumpled paper @ 2AM which undoubtedly will be lost just does not suffice. -Apologies for my numerous grammatical errors and such throughout.
Safe to say, I have been through a fair amount of shit through my life…
- Unstable parents marriage whilst growing up
- Moving to NZ due to biological father accepting a job over there
- Moving house in NZ
- Parents divorce (lol, yep, he had an affair with a lady I presume he met during the few days he spent at the job he took whilst we were visiting on holiday there BEFORE we moved and they are now married- might I add)
- Being trapped in the house that my parents bought shortly before my father was caught with the affair because he would not agree on the selling price
- Mums diagnosis with breast cancer
- The realisation that my father is a truly horrible person (I don’t tend to give information out about this not even to my closest friends- but on here- I feel a weight will be lifted off my shoulders.)
- Family counselling and interrogation by a psychologist because I refused to see my father and he didn’t believe that it was my own choice and that preferred to believe that i was being *quote* “Brainwashed” by mum.
- Observing the after effects of a chemo treatment with my mum
- Watching my mum die but thankfully recover and begin to live… I really can’t sum it up any other way.
- Moving house again
- My naive struggle with mental health
- Grandma in the UK passing away (I know everyone experiences relative death but I will most likely write about this at a later date)
- My mum meeting the love of her life…. my (at the time) best friends dad.
- The excruciating pain and embarrassment a 16 yr old felt with her mum dating her best friends dad. ***disclaimer: it is not worth snooping in your mums cupboard to see what you can find because I was utterly and truly upset to find, well, lube***
What comes next…. I Guess moving out of home to study but by correspondence. (I studied veterinary nursing whilst working for experience in an SPCA veterinary clinic and later finished off with a diploma when I moved back home)
Ahhh by this point it brings me up to 2017 I suppose.
Recently, about 4 months ago I was diagnosed with depression. Was wondering when that would kick in. Considering it can be hereditary (runs in mums side) and the amount of crap I had dealt with it had almost been a waiting game.
I’ve always had ups and downs and thought thats what depression was, feeling sad and lonely and not wanting to be here. I’ve got friends that I grew up in school with that would say they were depressed, and I would tell them that I was, too. But boy, oh boy. I almost feel really stupid now. There are multiple adjectives that I could use to describe how I was feeling during those times. But now, “depressed” is about as far off as one could put it. I didn’t have a clue what my friend was going through. Sure, I had moments where I would feel what I thought was as “depressed.” But I did not have depression.
If you are not one that has experienced this horrible, horrible mental illness (not my favourite choice of words but alas it is true) then count your freaking lucky stars.
To put it blankly it is like nothing I have ever experienced. Before I left New Zealand it was bad. I couldn’t handle the way I was feeling any more to the point where vague suicidal thoughts would waver and I knew I needed to seek medical advice. I began seeing a therapist who was so incredibly amazing and I wish I had done this so much earlier. But my anxiety was becoming a huge obstacle for me also and I didn’t know what to do with myself so my doctor put me on Prozac. OH dear. Yeah that did not work. I did give it a chance, trust me. It numbed me, which was great, and not so great. But whilst I was on Prozac I also begun to self harm in probably the mildest ways, but I won’t go into detail with that. The suicidal thoughts were the worst that today it brings me to tears. Never in my life have I been so concerned about what I could be capable of and how to do it. My brother was my best friend during these times. If I needed out the house he’d take me. If I didn’t want to sleep alone in fear of what I could attempt he’d sleep on the floor of my room or check on me every so often. I owe him my life.
So here I am writing this spiel of words for the first proper time. My frustration with how happy I SHOULD be feeling but struggle to feel reduced me to tears tonight, so I decided it was time to talk… to whoever reads this. Even if it is just myself.