“My body is a temple, tell me why it hurts like hell, help me please I could not be more desperate” Temple – Tonight Alive

Welcome back. Let me start by saying I apologise for the cover photo, I look half decent but there is foundation on my sleeve.

I was recently told that the thing I was most afraid to write about, I should write about that.

What is the thing I am most afraid to write about? My mental health.

Why is this the thing I fear writing about? Because if I write about it, I’m admitting how bad it got in the recent months and that I couldn’t handle it. If I am completely open, honest and vulnerable with my mental health, it shows that I am weaker than I let on.

Admitting this is admitting I was crying on the way to work because I simply couldn’t face the thought of spending my day around people, pretending to be shiny and happy, when I couldn’t of felt further from that. Admitting I cancelled long standing plans because I simply couldn’t deal with leaving my house.

I find it difficult to let people in and let them see the depressed side of me. The side of me that leaves me laying on my bathroom floor in tears, the side of me that falls asleep on the sofa after crying for what seems like no apparent reason. I have no motivation for anything. I completely shut down from my usual self. I shut the people around me out because I can’t be motivated or interested in myself, so why would the people around me be interested?

When I get particularly bad, the “I’m Fine” mask comes out.

When people ask how I am, it’s always the “I’m fine” answer. I don’t give away anymore than that because I have nothing more to give. I’m struggling to be where I am, I am struggling to communicate and socialise with you and if I give you more than just being fine, I will completely break down.

People forever tell me that I’m so strong, confident and bubbly. This is all part of the “I’m fine” character I have created. I’m none of those things. I’m a mess.

I’m a mess who has got exceptionally good at putting up a massive front and making you believe that I’m ok and I’m not struggling. I am struggling, I’m struggling more than you know and  more than I will ever let on.

Depression shakes my core. It’s a black cloud that lives just above my head that I can’t seem to shake. It’s the monster under my bed that grabs my foot and drags me under so I can’t escape. No one else is dealing with my demons and explaining those demons sometimes feels like it gives them more power.

I applaud the people who deal with me when I am at my worst. The ones who still try and don’t give up. The one’s who know I’ll come out the other side even if that does take days, weeks and sometimes even months. I applaud the people who don’t know how to handle depression and the personality changes that can come with that but still try. You may not always get it right but you can be sure I appreciate you trying.

I am very lucky with my support network. Even though I hide it the best I can they notice and will pick me up the best they can when I fall.

Trying to explain where my head is at, is difficult sometimes. I don’t always admit to myself for weeks or even months that I’ve fallen into another pit. I try and fight, even though I can’t see the woods for the trees.

I struggle to hold on to friendships though this time. People see me as uncaring and unbothered because I don’t respond to messages or requests to hang out. I do care, I really do. I just get lost sometimes and I can’t bring myself to leave my bed, let alone shower, brush my hair and go somewhere.

People wonder why my hair is up so often. Even the simple task of brushing my hair is a struggle and something I haven’t got the energy to do. I want to be able do this, I want to be able to brush my hair.  I just can’t.

Anyone who suffers with depression will understand the feeling when you’ve actually managed to complete something you usually wouldn’t have the energy to do – like cleaning. Sometimes it can take weeks to bring yourself to simple things like washing or loading the dishwasher.

Even writing my blogs seem like a massive achievement for me. The fact I’ve been able to concentrate and focus on something for enough time to put a piece together is a huge achievement for me on a personal level.

When it comes to eating when I’m in the worst throws of my battle, I forget to eat. If it wasn’t for the people around me cooking and feeding me, I honestly just wouldn’t remember or bother. I now know you’re thinking, but Beth you chubby AF, wouldn’t you be skinnier…. No honey, I eat and eat when I start falling into my pit and as I start climbing out. I am working on changing this as much as possible because it’s not a healthy way of dealing with things.

As Twenty One Pilots reference in one of their songs;

“I am a kitchen sink. However you don’t know what that means because a kitchen sink to you, is not a kitchen sink to me.”

I find this incredibly relatable when it comes to depression. We all have our own versions of the beast, it may be one thing to me and completely different for another human.

This year I am teaching myself all over again that I have depression, it doesn’t have me. This was a lesson I certainly forgot over the past months, letting the darkness consume me until I couldn’t handle it anymore.

For anyone struggling, reach out.

Reach out to me, a family member, a friend, a doctor or anyone.

Seek the help you need to help you manage, control and get better.