Tom

I have started this blog post at least eight times, and put off the editing process for around three months. When Hannah asked me to write it I thought it would be easy, to be honest anyone who’s ever met me knows I speak about myself constantly, my conversations are so often filled with self-flattery and personal anecdotes they would probably think it odd that I’ve found it so difficult. But I have.

It’s hard to talk about.

Nobody wants to speak about feelings that aren’t positive, nobody wants to hear my woe is me tale about feeling down, those are the statements that stop my fingertips from hitting keys, even if they are only spoken in my own head. The words get stuck on my tongue when I try to bring it up, only my closest friends have ever heard me speak about it. I tried to tell my dad once that I was struggling, I have an incredible relationship with my parents, but even then I couldn’t look him in the eye, I danced around the subject, hoping implication would do the dirty work for me. It’s hard and I think the only reason I can more comfortably do it now is because at least two years have passed since I felt this way.

My first experience of feeling truly down was in my first year of uni. When people had spoken about depression I always imagined it as feeling sad, crying more at movies and feeling a bit sorry for yourself in general. It doesn’t feel like that, sure they can be symptoms, but I felt like I was heavy, weighed down to the point where the effort of consciousness was too much most of the time. I slept as much as possible and spent most of my waking hours in a vegetative state hoping my flat mates wouldn’t ask me to participate in anything social or in any way mentally demanding. I struggled to find the motivation for basic tasks like showering or making actual food, I have often thought that the state of my room represents the state of my mental health and to call my room a pigsty would insult farm hands worldwide. “I’m too tired” was my mantra, and I repeated it daily as an answer to anything.

Now, I’d love to say that one day a crack of sunlight hit me and I realised that all was okay in the world and all I had to do to feel better was smile more and put an extra sugar in my tea, but I rarely opened my curtains or had the desire to make hot drinks. The process of feeling better was long. I started to write, I wrote about how I felt, anything to get the feelings out of my head and on to paper, where they were more manageable, where they could be looked at and examined, edited and re arranged, not flying round the pit of my stomach but etched in to paper, solid. This helped, and slowly the words became lyrics, and I wrote songs that I’m still hugely proud of. I didn’t write about happy things, or trying to feel better, I just exorcised my thoughts on to paper and slowly I started to feel less heavy. Now I have developed much better coping mechanisms. I still write a lot, anytime I feel down I write it out. I don’t even save most of it, I just put it down on paper and it feels more manageable but I am also blessed with the most incredible friends. I’ve learnt that friends who can give you advice are important, but friends who listen are invaluable. I have a select group of people I can pour my heart out too and they will sit and listen to it without complaint. Much like with writing I find that once it’s out of your body it disperses somewhat, for me anyway, I always feel like the weight gets less the more I let out. Is it hard to talk about? Yes, but I feel better for doing it, and sometimes is nice to talk to something warmer than paper. I think the most startling realisation that I had, and the one that has been the light at the end of the tunnel for me, is that at some point, I will be okay. And it might not be tomorrow, or even in a week, but at some point I will be okay.

Life is a never ending cycle of peaks and troughs, but no matter how down you feel and how bad it gets, there will be a point where it gets better. I’m not saying everything will be perfect, but I’m saying that if you keep moving, keep your head up, you will come out the other side. The most solid foundation you can build yourself up on is rock bottom. It’s hard to tell yourself sometimes, as we all know that our minds love to make us doubt that happiness is possible, but slowly you will learn to mend, and things that seemed impossible will slowly become every day. The smallest steps will get you where you want to be, eventually. It’s not a race to get better, it’s a marathon, and at points you will hit the wall and feel like you can’t go on, but the longer you push the easier you will find it to keep running.