Confessions

October is mental health awareness month. I know my post is late but mental health awareness should be an everyday thing. On the 30th of October 2019, I posted a blog entitled Missed signs. Included in that blog was a poem of the same title. That poem was inspired by my own personal experience and an experiment I did base on my experience. 

I have been writing for a very long time. Like many girls, I started by writing diaries. Sometime last year I was looking through my high school diary and I realised that I had a death wish. I hated my life and I was really tired of living. I often skim through some of my older writings and death seems to be a recurring theme. 

It's crazy because I remember being a somewhat happy child, who enjoyed going to school, laughing, spending time with friends, making jokes among other things. I mean I wasn't a problem-free child. You already know this if you have read some of my other blogs. But I was somewhat happy. I don't know when exactly I switched to this dark death wishing person. The thing is nobody who saw me grow up would believe this. Whenever I was surrounded by people I would be happy and in a good mood but when times got too tough for me I would switch.

At home, though I kept to myself, was super quiet and avoided family time as much as I could. That was the place that triggered me. My family was not aware of this either. I do remember my mom once saying to me though "If you continue like this you will be depressed." In my head, I just said 'I am already depressed.' You see depression can be obvious in some people but in others, it can be very subtle. To my friends and family reading this now I am sorry that I never spoke up but I didn't know how to. 

So as much as I looked okay when I was in a crowd, deep down all I wanted was to die. I was so tired of this world. 2018 and 2019 were the years that my depression hit me the hardest. In the previous years I managed to manage my triggers by keeping busy so I didn't have to think about my demons. Those who went to college with me can testify that whatever I was asked to do I would do. I remember one afternoon after class Dr Sutcliffe (one of my professors at the time) called me into the office and said "My girl I am worried about you." I was obviously confused. Seeing my facial expression she went on to say "You need to learn to say 'No'. You are too busy and too involved with everything." 

At that stage in my life keeping busy and socialising were the only form of escape I knew. Those were the only ways I knew how to stay away from thinking about death. At some point I became hungry for success and that was another way to not think about dying and it became sort of a reason to live. 

Back to 2018, I was home alone. I had classes twice a week in the evenings and that kept me busy. During the June holidays though I locked myself in my room and spent my days in bed I got up only to go to the bathroom. I put my phone on silent and just shut people out. One day I got a call from Cecilia something just pushed me to answer. I am not sure if she will remember this but she literally reprimanded me on the phone. She told me to get up, shower, eat and not give up. As much as I got out of bed, I still kept myself locked in the house.

That's when I realised that I needed help. The problem was I didn't know where to seek help. I didn't know where to begin. I remember calling the youth leader at the time who also happens to be a psychologist. She asked me to write down three things that would make me want to live. Three reasons to live I thought. I don't have any. At this point, I also didn't really care if I made it to heaven or not. My thinking was that whatever happens to me is eternal. Whether it was eternal life or eternal death, it was final. 

Towards the end of 2018, Lu came to stay with me and she was the first person I told about my desire to die. She kept me on my feet, kept checking but she also gave me space (I get annoyed with people being in my face all the time sometimes). I also went back to school, kept busy with assignments and my tutoring job. Even though I had school, assignments and work I still had too much time during my days and some of those I would spend in bed. That's when I started my blog in June 2019. 

I prolonged seeking help because I wanted a therapist who would combine my mental healing process with my beliefs. I made excuses and even tried to convince myself that I didn't have a problem. The blog was my way to speak up, to help others speak up, to reflect and begin a healing process. I struggle with depression but I am getting better. I struggle with anxiety to the point of waking up sweaty in the night. As much as try to run away from my triggers while I am awake they haunt me at night. 

This year I took a stance, took my first step which was to seek help. The journey to healing and restoration is difficult and scary but it is worthwhile. I personally still have a long way to go. I have issues to tackle and so much to still uncover. This is why I am a fervent supporter of mental health awareness. Prayer has also been a fundamental tool in my journey.

Depression is real and it affects us cheerful and happy people too. Check on your friends.