I’ve suffered from depression for so long I don’t even remember when it first appeared, the anxiety is easier to point out the origins I remember too well those years. I may include images and commentary that is distressing to some people, I’ll try to avoid it but please be warned this has been my life since before anyone I still know met me outside my family.
It’s not easy to talk about how I feel with people, in fact just writing this has taken weeks (actually more like years) of fighting myself and the rise of the anxiety that swells because I don’t feel adequate to the task. I’m putting it out here because I need to though. Both for myself because I can’t keep hiding this, and for others so they don’t have to feel so alone.
Depression is a liar, it makes you feel useless while demanding you exert yourself to extremes to complete a task to perfection. It demands you hide your needs from the world because you’re not good enough to seek help. It tells you you deserve the pain that others cause you, that you’re garbage to be disposed of.
That’s the simple description which barely touches on how uniquely we all experience depression, I’ve spent years unable to cry, decades unable to smile, my life afraid to meet new faces.
On a good day, I can get out of bed and do what needs to be done, on a normal day I dread the thought of moving, on a bad day I never even slept and have no motivation to leave the bed.
Cleaning fills me with dread and what should take hours can take weeks to make headway on (though working as a cleaner didn’t do it in fact a drive to get it done as well as possible fits in with my depression demanding perfection).
I fear success and failure both, imposter syndrome is a constant companion every time I write or record. There’s a reason you will never find my name on an article I did the work on but that of others who did any amount of the groundwork will be given the credit when I can get away with it. I don’t want the recognition, it’s easier not to deal with the expectations or the disapproval.
I have scars on my side from when things got bad enough I resorted to hitting myself trying to deal with the stress.
I feel anxious to the point I disconnected from myself, I feel vacant right now like I am watching slightly removed from my own body. This is only slightly removed from a panic attack, something I’ve dealt with for as long as I can remember.
Telling people how I feel is an ordeal, in fact the panic was so severe trying to ask my partner out I nearly fell over a balcony at work I was so disconnected from myself I was unaware of my surroundings and ready to fall over where I stood anyway.
In fact I first spoke to her on facebook while I was laying on a classroom floor having a minor panic attack away from any people and wondering how much longer I would be able to carry on, I could feel myself slipping further along that dark path again.
I feel selfish because I can put myself into the shoes of someone in a bad place and want to help because I’d hope someone would do the same for me.
I don’t ask for help until it’s too late usually, I’ve been homeless before in fact when I joined the community on DK I was homeless trying to keep my ex and our kids safe and get them into public housing, I was hoping to just vanish at that point never to cause them pain again.
I could keep talking about it at length, I don’t want to discuss some of this at all or the other incidents that have made my life harder to live each day though, it took me 5 hours to write this much and it’s not from being a slow typist. That I am alive some days is only down to having a partner I love and don’t want to abandon. I see our governments becoming increasingly partisan and harmful to the people who need them the most, I’ve watched veterans come home damaged like I am or worse and receive no help from the DVA in Australia, I’ve watched the same occur in the USA. I’ve seen people crying out about “what about our own problems” whenever the topic of foreign aid come up, well why the fuck don’t you care when it comes appropriations time? Where I live in Australia the mental health services are a farce, there’s little infrastructure in place to provide for those who need support. And just talking about my problems may make it harder for me to get my boys back, seeking professional help may actually make it impossible given the stigma associated with mental health issues.
On the 28th of February I left my worksite for the last time, I felt some little degree of relief and less depressed (the work is not good for people with depression. I’ve been in pain since I took over as the team foreman I’ve had my kneecaps become dislocated to the point where I had to resort to doing a reduction for myself so I could finish my shift; and I have no sure idea of where the agony in my lower legs is from the suspected bone spurs in my ankles or worse. That’s why I decided to take a while to see if things got better before hunting another job, but I knew I couldn’t keep working the job under the new contract holder so I didn’t apply to keep my job. I was reasonably free from, but just walking to and from my nearest supermarket (less than 15 minutes one way) was sufficient to have put me back to the burning I came to associate with every break at work where I struggled to stand again and would be lucky to limp back to work so I doubt I’ll be able to resume any sort of regular employment I think my legs are close to done after 30 years of abuse and are being frank about it. I will probably be homeless again in a couple of weeks I probably won’t get unemployment because I don’t have a certificate from my former employer, my manager was pushed out the door before I was finished for the day so I have no real faith I’ll get it and it’s required. For now I’m broke and broken.
It’s been mostly nice knowing you all, take care in case I don’t get to talk more in future. I’ll be trying to keep my head above water but I think maybe my luck has run out finally especially since I don’t think these federal elections will get rid of the idiots who are screwing up our welfare system worse by the day. This isn’t a GBCW, I’m just too tired and sore to think things will get better.