Coping With My Depression...

Evening,

As I lie down naked on my bed, sprawed all out and sundry, I am suffering one of my all recurring depressive moments. They can come about at just about any time, with or more likely without reason and can keep me down for minutes or days or even weeks.

This time it is in the aftermath of a spat between myself and mother dear - and it's all my fault. I was looking for one of my much adored AllSaints tops (it's the one with the Houston, Touchdown tagline, for those of you into fashion!) and mother dear (bless her) had been constantly telling me that it was downstairs, but of course - yours truly doesn't believe that for one minute and so wants it back in his drawers for future wearage.

Inevitably, mother sees the mess that I leave her room (that's where my wardrobe is) and quite rightly kicks off about it.

It is a typical reason for a row, and normally it can escalate to something else, but this evening I cannot be asked - the weekend is coming and it's gonna be fun and games down
the beach with some of the guys, so I cannot be asked to take up the baton and mouth off.

Getting back to the point of the blog this evening, as readers would have realised from previous postings, I have suffered from depression for about 14 years - predominantly due to some pretty traumatic experiences as a child, which I will not go into right now, because to do that I would need to be in a dark place psychologically and I'm not there at the moment and don't want to go there because that would take a few days to get away from that state of mind.

At first, I found dealing with my depression extremely hard, if not impossible - the counselling sessions I had both at school and particularly back home in the aftermath of Dad leaving Mum was not that great - as it made me have to go and trough through all the shit that had been thrown down on me.

I admit there was times when I was very worried and concerned for my own welfare - in the immediate days after having my birthday money stolen from me by a Crack-Head on a training course just before my 18th birthday, I will admit, the thought of suicide truly did seem like the logical and only plausible option available to me - something that reared it head twice since - the days after Dad left home, and about 3 and a half years later, when I left a Christmas job at Argos and everyone I knew was working but I wasn't and it felt like I was going nowhere.

As time has moved on however, I have been able to deal with it in small and manageable doses. In some aspects it can be a good thing, in getting me off a massive high after a night off.

Having the support of my family (when they themselves are not down there themselves) but more pertinently my friends at work and elsewhere has been invaluable. You cannot deal with depression on your own. I tried for six years, and my sheer stubbornness almost cost me my life. Only with those around you can you deal with it - and work, live and play around it.

End of essay!

Night, Night!!


- Posted Straight From The iPhone...