An Open Book.

12 Aug

So it seems like today’s sad news about Robin Williams has led to a lot of people opening up about mental illness, and I think that’s a very good thing for people to be talking about.

It’s all too easy to dismiss mental illness, and in particular depression as something that shouldn’t be spoken about publicly. It’s all too easy to think that it’s the kind of thing that would never happen to you.

But sometimes you’d be wrong for thinking that.

I know I was.

All through my life, I’ve been told over and over again that I’m an extremely happy person, and my cheery disposition is never far away from the surface. I’m a fat girl, I’m supposed to be happy – I think that’s how things work, anyway. I’ve always said that life is too short to be miserable, and my being sad does nobody any favours.

But back in February, I was going through an extremely bad patch. Everything just got too much for me. I didn’t want to see people, I didn’t want to socialise. I spent a lot of time in my room, not leaving the house for four or five days at a time. If my housemates were working or away, there were periods of maybe three or four days when I wouldn’t actually talk to another human being, save for people online (and we know that doesn’t count).

I got ill. I got really ill, in fact. I stopped eating. I lost a load of weight in a month, and whilst I might have looked alright on the outside, I was having an absolutely woeful time on the inside.

I ended up going to the doctor, cried in her office, and apologised to her.

Looking back, I see how ridiculous it was to say sorry, because I’d obviously not vocalised how awful I’d been feeling to anybody, as I didn’t want to dump my problems onto somebody else, particularly not my friends, who were all having struggles of their own.

It was, by far, the lowest point of my life so far.


My friends stuck by me. They didn’t know the half of what was going on in my head, but they made such a massive effort with me, that I cannot thank them enough. I actually wonder if a couple of people knew more about what was going on in my head than I did, as they really stepped up, and were around more often than they maybe had been before.

I think the reason that I’ve decided to talk about this is because I had a brief chat with Philip on Twitter last night, and mentioned how some people are amazing at putting on a brave face because they feel some sort of responsibility to hide the truth from their friends and family, lest it effect them, or seem maybe a lesser person.

I did it for too long, and know now that I should have just reached out to someone, anyone, and said “Hey, I’m having a really bad time at the moment, can we talk about it?”. They wouldn’t necessarily have had to say yes, but I think just breaking the silence might have been good for me at the time.

I’m still not 100%. But now I know what the signs are, I know where I can turn for help. (Links to The Samaritans are HERE)

I know this wasn’t a particularly fun blog post to read. It wasn’t fun to write. Ordinarily, I might apologise, but in this instance, I’m not going to, as this needed saying, and people needed to know that the happiest of people do have their low moments.

Please don’t suffer in silence. Come on, let’s talk.



One Response to “An Open Book.”

  1. themusicapocalypse August 13, 2014 at 2:26 pm #

    Reblogged this on The Music Apocalypse.

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