There are many posts that I have written over the past few months, that I never published. Since October, life got pretty shit. I was diagnosed with depression, my Dad died and well, it was awful. This post was written in October 2015. These were my thoughts when I was diagnosed with depression.
I can laugh. I can smile.
I’m not a zombie.
I’m not suicidal.
I am, apparently, depressed.
I had to take time out.
Time out from what?
There’s just not enough time for anything
Not enough time for me.
Time is probably the reason.
Time is running out and I have no way of stopping it.
It’s a summer and autumn of lasts, not firsts.
So many endings.
Saying goodbye all the time is very hard.
I can forget, for a while.
I have made the most of the time we have left.
But I am so tired, and strained.
I am not how I thought someone depressed is. Should be.
If I don’t think, I am OK.
Depression is hard.
Many days, I am OK. if I don’t have to do anything, I’m OK.
but pressure,expectation, appointments, or a comment, or a look
Can have my stomach churn and the panic sets in and I am back to square one.
I probably don’t look that unwell on the outside.
But it’s all on the inside.
I’m not hyperventilating, but I am panicking.
I can’t think of anything else. Round and round and round my head.
Small, insignificant things like a comment on a birthday card.
I am tired. I am wired. I can’t rest. I can’t stop.