The past few months have been very strange for me. I have had ups and downs, the way I normally do; however, I haven’t noticed the ups and downs as easily as I usually can. As I write this, it has only just dawned on me that I have basically been so depressed these past few months that I have been blind, even to the very thing that was blinding me: my mental health.
Being blind to my mental health, while it may at first glance seem to be liberating or even preferable over obsessing about mental health, is actually quite a terrifying notion. Coming to realise how blind I have been has awoken a terror in me that I haven’t felt before. I suddenly realise that I have been drifting through life with no real aim. I can now see that I have been neglecting self-care and I have just been on autopilot for so long. I can barely remember what I’ve done over the past few months. How did I get here? It’s almost as if I’ve skipped a portion of my life. There has been action and consequence and my life has changed in many insignificant ways but I don’t know or understand why it has changed because I can’t remember any of the actions or consequences that have taken place. I think that is the most terrifying part, as change is already a scary notion at the best of times; however, not understanding the change makes it all the more scary. This blindness and inability to remember or understand has made me feel broken, in the sense that I am not functioning the way that I should be. I want to fix myself but the task seems so monumental that I don’t know where to begin.
There was a period of time when writing was something about which I was passionate. One of the consequences of being so blind to my mental wellbeing has been neglecting writing. This is something else that scares me. If my brain can cut something that I enjoy so much out of my life without me even realising it, what else is it capable of doing to me? I love writing more than I ever thought I would so why did I dismiss it so willingly? I can’t imagine a version of myself that would do something like that. It isn’t me so who am I? I must be honest, I am tearing up as I write these questions because I can’t fathom the answers and it’s terrifying me. Hopefully writing this post will help me sort the muddle of thoughts in my brain and I’ll be able to understand what is going on.
Music is a huge part of my life and it always has been. I have memories of music going as far back as when I was a baby, not even 1 year old. The thing is, though: I haven’t enjoyed music much, if at all during this period of being broken. This is another thing that I love so dearly which has been crushed and almost obliterated by my depression. I read other people’s stories of depression and quite often I can’t relate because of one thing: music. People say that music saved them from their depression because they would lose themselves in their favourite songs or albums or with their favourite bands or artists. I have never been able to lose myself in music when I am depressed because my depression takes music away from me. I really wish that it was different and music helped me when I’m feeling low but it just doesn’t. Even playing my guitar doesn’t interest me when I’m depressed and that is something which I have been doing since I was 8 years old. I need music in my life so why am I so readily giving it up? I don’t think I will ever know the answer to that question.
What to Do Now?
Well, what am I to do now? I feel like my life has passed me by in such an extraordinary way. I failed to recognise that I have been in a depression for months. This has scared me and I don’t know right now what I can do. I guess writing this is the first step. I will figure it out eventually but right at this moment, I feel lost; more lost than I’ve ever been in my life. At least, that’s how it feels to me right now.
With all of this being said, my head does now feel a little clearer. I can remember why I started blogging in the first place and I hope I have it in me to continue. The most important thing to me is my mental health and the mental health of others. Breaking the stigma is still very much my goal, I just seemed to forget that recently. Now, that thought has broken my heart. I hope I never forget it again.