Personal Pickings - Amanda's Life With Depression

Personal Pickings is a feature here at Beautiful Bookish Butterflies that allows one of us to approach subject personal to us that has no link or connection to our bookish endeavors. Today, Amanda is talking about are personal battle with depression, how it's affected her life on the whole, her deepest, darkest moments and what keeps me going.

It's not a known fact to people who visit me regularly that I have and suffer from a few 'issues' - depression, anxiety, a lack of confidence, severe stress and lack the ability to have children of my own, but out of all of those issues that I have, depression is the one that affects my life the most. I realised after a long think, another blog post and a few extracts I found littering my laptop that I've never really spoken about my depression, I've spoken in passing that I suffer from it and the other issues I've already stated, but I've never gone into in much detail and I had never considered doing it, until I read both Asti's and Kelley's experience's at Oh! the Books and admired just how much strength and faith in their viewers it took to talk about such a sensitive subject. I, like them, have faith in my readers and feel that it's about time you found out more about what the girl behind the blog is like and my experiences with depression. This will both be a difficult post to write and a difficult post to read, so please, do not feel pressured.

To some people, depression is a cloud that hangs above them darkening everything light and positive they do. To others, it's a feeling within them that they just aren't good enough. To me, depression was another person, another me within me. She had the power to switch my life upside down, to take a positive and slam the negatives in front of me, we were the same person, but were ying and yang, light and dark, obsession and depression. Because my depression was a person, I named her Debra, I don't particularly like the name, but in the past, I didn't like to think of her as me, it may have been a self-preservation thing, it may have been a denial thing, but either way, the name and feeling stuck, and I shared every aspect of my life with Debra. She had access to my memories, my feelings, my attitude and my mood, but worst of all, she had access to my thoughts, and it's there where she created the most damage.

I have been through a few extremely tough moments in my life, and I'm almost tempted to compare them to that of Asti and Kelley, mention how in comparison, my problems weren't and aren't as bad as there's, but I've learnt that you cannot compare other peoples problems and deny their level of struggle through a chart. Some things affect people more than others, some people are stronger than others, and some lack any strength at all, and that's where I'm going next. In these tough moments, I've had a few - I guess you could call them breakdowns, but to me, I'd relinquished control over myself and allowed Debra to take over. She still did everything I did, she went to college, and made small talk, in fact, she even had my sarcasm, but she planted negativity into my mind, into everything I did and I felt weaker and weaker, like there's no way out of the hole she was digging for me, like I was drowning, like I was a candle that's been burning small and bright, positively lighting up those around me, that now has grown wild and out of control, raging and burning hotter and more intensely and there's no way to stop the flame without putting it out. The most recent of these 'breakdowns' started in November and took me through to Febuary and resulted in what I remember as being one of the most stressful and horrible Christmas's I've ever had in my life. I adore Christmas, it's one of my most favourite times of the year, but last year, I felt the complete opposite. I wasn't attending college, I was failing my classes, I constantly, obsessively read through my entire collection of books, because it was the only thing that kept me from feeling all the negativity Debra had been surrounding me with. This brings me to something I wrote on my computer during this time. I don't remember writing it, in fact, I'd almost deny that is was me, if it wasn't for the fact that feelings I get when I reread it, are the exact same feelings I've experienced before in my darkest moments. To realise the seriousness of this moment, I've included it in this post. You may find the following upsetting..

For the first time in over 3 years, I just felt like I couldn't handle everything anymore. Over one stupid thing, fucking paint. Really, paint. It wasn't even an important thing to argue over, but as was usual lately, Mum was in tears and I so angry, I wanted to smash up our entire dish collection. It's so hard living with her these days. She's just so angry at me and all she can do is see it from her point of view, and she has no idea how hard it is for me. I have to be with her, everyday. I have to remind her of so many things, I've forgotten what it's like to be a child anymore. I'm just full of anger and stress and she says she's capable, but she isn't, she just isn't anymore. When I was younger it was funny, but it's just hard now, I can't laugh anymore, it just isn't funny. I'm left crying a lot of the time these days. For the first time in years, I felt like the only option was the knife. I used to use hairclips, and to be fair to myself, I probably would have again, today, now, just then, but I couldn't find one. I'm too scared to use a knife, I know how hard to use a hairclip. I remember, I know how easy it was to scratch it across my wrist, and how, granted, it hurt, how I just felt I had a reason to cry, a reason to feel pain, and it blocked everything out in that moment. Even touching them afterwards hurt, but it worked, I could hide behind that feeling of pain rather than go through everything I used to be going through. And life's so much harder now, and I had been good for ages, I hadn't thought about it again, until today, before. It's just too hard..

I am what you may call a master of disguise. At this moment in my life, I was blogging, I was putting out content for you all, reviews, discussions, fun, quirky quizzes, but behind the screen, things weren't at all that easy, nor happy. You'll be glad to know I didn't follow through with what the previous passage said, in fact, I would almost be tempted to deny that girl is even me, but I have scars from incidents older than that, and I carry them around with me for the rest of my life, as a reminder of her, the girl in that passage, the girl who felt so lost and so alone, who felt like she had no other option but to cause herself pain.

By the end of Febuary, things were looking up. I fell into blogging, reading and reviewing for fun, rather than escape. I still wasn't going to college all that often, but I was studying from home, learning what I could, both on my college work and not. I started to talk to other bloggers more regularly, talking to them about more than books, confiding in them, sharing each others stories and our current happenings. I confided in my friends, who found and still do find it difficult knowing that I am a loose cannon, but they supported me. I talked more about how out of control and overwhelmed I felt with Mum, which was possibly the most difficult and most emotionally draining thing I've done - it's pretty difficult confiding in someone when that someone is one of the reasons you're feeling how you are, definitely not something you'd like to do too often - but I gained more confidence, more faith and most of all, I started to feel happy again. I was still stressed out, home life hadn't changed, I was still worrying over the little details that really, nobody normal should worry about, but I was enjoying what I do everyday, the company of the people I was with, the people I surrounded myself with, it all become more positive, and slowly, I realised that by giving my depression a name, I'd given it too much strength. I'd been denying that is was me who was struggling and with time, I accepted that depression wasn't another person, it wasn't even me, it something I had, the same has having two feet or brown hair or divorced parents, it was something that was in my life, but didn't have to dictate it.

What made me write this post now? I've been feeling the pull of negativity once again, far from the extent I mentioned earlier, but the tugs of doubt, of - feeling like I'm losing my strength. I can feel myself putting on a act around some people, pretending I'm feeling one thing when in fact, I'm feeling another. Even though, deep down, I may be that girl, lost, confused, angry and sad all at the same time, I'm not that girl today. Today, I still have strength. Today, I have people who will support me when I turn to them, people I can confide in. Today, I don't look at a hairclip and see a weapon, but merely something to clip my annoying, oddly lengthed fridge back into place. Today I look the scars I have, and remember how those moments felt and know that I don't want anymore of them. No more moments, no more scars, no more weakness. Today, I decide that tomorrow I will feel the same, and the next day, and the day after, because depression isn't something that goes away, but something you continue to battle, every day of your life. Some days are good, some days, not so good, but everyday, you fight to make sure you have a tomorrow. Everyday, I fight to make sure I sure I have a happier tomorrow.

Unlike most discussions, this isn't the kind that you leave a question at the end of, however, should you ever feel anything close to what you may have just read, there are people who can support you should you not wish to turn to friends or family. Remember, depression is a illness, but you should never let it define you as a person, nor make the rules or decisions. You are more than depression.