The journey back to myself

I’m done with the whole ‘I’m not good enough’ bullshit. (Sorry Nan) How did all the successful people in this world get where they are today? By getting off their ass and making their own luck. I’m not going to stand around anymore and waste time, waste what I’ve done and how far I’ve come. What do I have to lose? What do we all have to lose? 

We all deal with rejection right? And what better way than to push yourself to improve time and time again. That’s what life is all about isn’t it? Being the best you can be? Then let’s do it. 

Let’s see what you think to the following. My blogs are going to take a new turn, and this is just the beginning.

I want to practise my descriptive writing more in my posts, while also keeping my overall theme. So this is a short extract, in which I try to explain my nightly rituals during the worst of my depression. 

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It was a cold November night and I wasn’t even close to resting my head on my favourite pillow and drifting off into a peaceful sleep. My mind was wandering, as it usually did at this time of the day. There were no distractions to halt the endless thoughts, and this was where the danger started. The darkness would soon close in and I had no power to stop it. I would stand in the depths of my imagination, hands in front of my face, attempting to shield my fragile body. But once again I would have to admit defeat. 

The shaking would come, the tears would prick the back of my eyes, and I would feel the despair take over. I was escaping my body, floating into the air and gazing down upon my still frame. I saw the dark shadow forming over my pale face. The way my hands were clenched into tight fists, my toes curled, my whole body tense. If only this wasn’t my nightly ritual, something I had now become accustomed too. But even so, the terror was always there, never fading. There was no joy or excitement trying to break its way through. 

The thoughts would run around my head, left, right and centre. They would go deeper and deeper, darker and darker until the breath would be ripped from my lungs. I was drowning and I couldn’t reach the surface. I would curl myself into a tight ball trying to numb the engulfing pain. No amount of uplifting music or my favourite literature could fight my dangerous mind. And that’s when I knew there was no way out. 

When I finally fell to sleep in the early hours of the morning I had this same nightmare I’d been having for as long as I could remember. I was running and running, but my legs just weren’t fast enough. I had no idea what I was running from but I knew my life depended on me getting away. I woke with a start, soaking wet from sweat and petrified. I felt exhausted, no energy to move my limbs. No urgency to get out of bed at all. And the thought of speaking to anyone or seeing anyone brought me to tears. I lifted the quilt over my head, buried my head into my pillows, and tried to shut myself away. To a place I would feel more safe. 

I knew I could no longer put on a brave face, and paint on a smile. I couldn’t be me anymore, because I had no will left. 

Little did I know, that there was a world outside my window rooting for me. There were people speaking my name. They were feeling concern, hopelessness, fear. They were doing research into the unknown. Grasping at straws. Holding onto hope. My damaged mind was oblivious to the utter desperation and determination of the people seeking to free me from myself. 

There came a day that I could no longer be alone. I had to accept the help being offered to me. I looked at the pain in my Mum and Dad’s eyes. It yanked me from my revelry. It made me question what I was doing, why I was doing it and how I could get myself out. I found that it was so important to see how much I mattered. To see what people were willing to do for me, and how much they didn’t want to lose me. They would go to the ends of the Earth to make me smile and laugh again. And that’s how I began my journey back to myself. 

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It’s so difficult to put into words exactly how it feels. The people around you will ask and ask but you’ll never be able to really express the furthest corners of your mind. But we also have to realise that the more you close yourself off the more you affect the people around you. They may not be able to help you in the ways you need, and that’s ok. But appreciate their unbelievably selfless efforts. My biggest regret is how I didn’t even stop to think about how much my suffering was also affecting my nearest and dearest. And I try my best to make up for that now, and let them know how truly grateful I am. 

Unfortunately, even when the initial pain has gone and time has passed, triggers can happen. You can go somewhere, see something or someone, which brings it all rushing back. And before you know it you are right back there, holding your chest, gasping for air. And the only person who can pull you back out of that hole, is you. You’ve done it before and you can do it again. It’s going to be hard and it’s going to knock the life out of you for some time. But you’ll come back. Even if it means you’ve taken a step backwards, it’s not all the way back. And you are so much more forward that you ever even realised. But remember about those people around you, the ones who will always be there, no matter what. You can ask them for anything and they can make it that little bit easier. 

I hope and pray that one day I won’t be reminded and affected by the smallest of things. That the pain will just be a distant memory, and I can finally feel victorious, powerful and completely in control. And for once I don’t doubt that that day will come, because with every minute that passes and with every obstacle I overcome, I get closer.