Talking, tablets, and telling the Truth

I’m going to rant. I’m going to rant and I warn you now, if you’re sensitive to any kind of pessimistic content then please do not read this.

Recently depression has been a very difficult bitch. It’s been revisiting me in new ways and springing up with new intrusive and obsessive thoughts, defeating me in ways I’ve never had to deal with before. For around a year I’ve been on the anti-depressant Sertraline, which did seem to help me at first but seems to be becoming less and less effective. Taking this into account, we (my parents, CAMHS worker, doctor and I) have started the tedious process of switching my medication.

The complications with doing this is that you have to come off it slowly and have a break before restarting on something new; hence if it was doing something good, we’re risking the chances of me getting a major blow in the face from depression. But anyway, the annoying thing is that if you never try, you’ll never know. The sertraline could be doing me absolutely no good, meaning that getting rid of it will be a smooth move.

To be truthful, I feel stable enough to power through this change right now. I’ve got no big changes or stresses around me, meaning I’m able to take this as slowly as I need- and thank God I’m surrounded by the right people, with strong relationships. I’ve never been good at asking for help but this year, I’ve actually been able to do just that. I still stick to my argument that it is pointless, although there’s maybe a little bit of me that’s unwilling to admit it, but does see some benefits from it.

Strictly speaking, it’s vaguely helpful to “talk” about it – however, there are few people I apply this to (not including either my councillor or parents, the people best for helping me…), and truth be told, when I speak about my problems I feel incredibly selfish. I am well aware that I shouldn’t feel like that, but I hate to feel like I’m forcing somebody to listen to all these heavy things that go on in my mind. It’s normal for me to have these feelings, these thoughts- and to let another person in, somebody that cares about me and hasn’t experienced depression before, that’s hard. It’s hard and risky because the kind of things in my mind damage a person. I’m used to just dealing with it, I can just “get on with it“. A healthy mind can’t. A healthy mind cannot get their head around the fact that this person they love to bits, this person that they never want to lose as a friend, has actively thought about killing themselves hundreds of times. It’s scary to admit.

I wish I could conjure up some kind of moral or lesson to take from this, but there isn’t one. Instead, a few things to keep in mind: If you are afraid of telling people close to you about your problems, there is always professionals willing to help, whether that be on an abuse/suicide/self harm helpline (available 24/7), your doctor, or a therapist. And if even uttering your emotions aloud is a no-go area, I strongly advise you to find some safe way of getting it out- whether that be a blog, a diary, art… Whatever you’re into. All I can say is keeping everything inside is an extremely bad idea.

ALSO, sorry for the lack of posts recently. Obviously this might be a slightly difficult period and remembering to keep this updated weekly is not even partially in my mind.




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