Confession Time | Mental Health

*Warning, this is a very long and quite personal post, so feel free to skip over it or at least get yourself a cup of tea. Mentions of depression, anxiety and prescription drugs (not specified) throughout.*

Today I wanted to talk about something important. Like really important. My mental health.

I'm pretty good at pretending I'm okay to the people around me. Certain people can always tell when things aren't right, but mostly it goes unnoticed. This is kind of my own fault, I really hate asking for help and admitting that I need it. I'm usually quite a private person and I don't like to bother other people with my stuff. However, my mental state has gotten to the point where I can't do this on my own anymore.

I finally went to my doctor last week. I'd actually booked this appointment three times beforehand, but I cancelled them, because I really really did not want to go.

I've had depression for over a decade now and it wasn't until last year that I plucked up the courage to finally tell someone. I was told to go onto anti-depressants and at first I resisted because I wanted to try and get some therapy or counseling. But that proved more difficult than I thought and either involved waiting lists and chasing up endless calls or spending more money than I had, so in the end I went back to the doctor and decided to give the pills a try.

After about 5 months and, by this point, well into the summer holidays I wasn't perfect, but I wasn't breaking down in tears every day anymore and no longer felt as stressed (I now realise this was because I was having a huge break from university and no longer had the pressure to go in, be around people and meet deadlines), I'd also gotten myself a part time job. I began to run out of my pills and thought I'd just wean myself off them instead of bothering the doctors again.

Fast forward to last week and once again I am behind in my studies and I hadn't been out of my flat in about 6 weeks except for the occasional trip to the corner shop with Noah in the evening and the one day when my family came down to visit. This has never happened to me before. I've had several bouts of depression in my life but this was new and it scared me.

Credit: Gemma Correll

It took Noah a while to convince me, but I called a taxi and went to see my doctor. I was nervous because I didn't know how to explain what was going on and also I was feeling extremely uncomfortable being away from the flat and suddenly around so many people. My doctor is great and explained to me about anxiety and agoraphobia and how this happens to a lot of people and that I shouldn't be embarrassed, but that it's important to try and sort this sooner rather than later.

I decided to go back onto the anti-depressants. I have been taking them for a week and have had a groggy time with the initial side effects, but I should be seeing improvements over the next couple of weeks. I've also been making sure to take my other medication regularly (I'd been forgetting/not really caring and this was adding to my problems) and my doctor has helped me to get in contact with the right people regarding my studies as well as arranging for me to see an on campus counselor.

I've been putting off this post because I know that family and other people in my life sometimes read my blog and I don't want anyone to worry about me, nor do I want to talk about it in person. However, part of the reason I started this blog was to document my life and it wouldn't be right or honest to just ignore this huge part of it. I'm feeling hopeful and I have good support here in Bath. I won't be better anytime soon, there's no quick fix and it's going to take a while, but I'm working on it and that's something.

Pretty much Noah is my Piglet right now. 

If you read this far, thank you. I know it's not the happiest of subjects, but I needed to write this all out for myself even if nobody else ends up reading it.

Bicks x