The Sun Will Rise Again

Depression is a killer. Literally. It's an all encompassing force which takes over your brain and ravages every part of your life. Darkness that falls over your eyes and clouds your vision, forcing you in to perpetual exhaustion but refusing to let you sleep. Trying to fight it can leave you even more tired and the will to live begins to fade.

It's the least wonderful time of the year again, a period when the days shorten and the air cools. It's a time when we're supposed to rest and hibernate in readiness for the coming spring. As much as you may want to sleep away the winter, life dictates that you must continue.

Over the past few weeks, I've been trying to yank myself away from the clutches of this illness. I knew that it was coming so have taken the usual precautions and stocked up on vitamin D and daylight bulbs. But it still manages to creep in and wrap its hands around your soul. All of the joy that you've been feeling all year slowly ebbs away and leaves you as a blackened husk. You know that the changes are happening and you try to fight them. But sooner or later, all you can do is give in.

Depression changes people. Their behaviours and mannerisms change. I end up isolating myself because I know that I'm not the person I was a few weeks previously. Something's changed inside of me. I'm bitter and angry, sometimes from exhaustion, sometimes from the things that are happening around us. We live in a world that doesn't changes in the brain. These are illnesses that are still seen as a non-illness because there's no physical evidence. Yet, if you asked the family and friends of someone who lives with depression, they'd be able to tell you every single physical change that they see in those who are affected.

In times like these, the smallest thing can trigger a wave of grief. However, the smallest thing can also help to alleviate the pain, if only for a moment. Staying strong while life is threatening to drag you under is hard and we have to constantly remind ourselves that calm returns once the storm has passed. Fighting against it is one of the best things that you can do.

“No matter what happens, the sun will rise in the morning.” - Barack Obama

Light Up The Darkness

Another bright left has been extinguished. Chester Bennington, singer for Linkin Park, passed away on 20^th July 2017. Cause of death – Depression.

We need to start being more open about mental health. For some reason we keep it a secret as though we must not speak of an illness that only shows its face in those final, painful moments.

Why do we keep mental health hidden? Why do we fear it? Because it cannot be seen? Yet there are many invisible illnesses that are accepted and spoken about without the level of Victorian-esque fear that mental health seems to inspire. It almost feels as though we still live in an age where any of us may become a spectacle in an asylum.

But mental health has come so far since those dark days of Bedlam. No longer must we live in fear that we're going to be a person who is scorned or ridiculed. No longer are we going to be paraded for the entertainment of others. Those days are gone. Finished. Over.

Yes, mental health care is still lacking in so many parts of the world. But there is help. And there is hope. We may look at social media as a burden yet, in this day and age, we are only a few key strokes away from asking for help. No one knows who they're linked to until they ask. No one knows what the hive mind of the internet can turn up. You don't have to suffer alone any more.

You don't have to suffer.

You don't have to suffer.

You don't have to suffer.

We are all here for one another, here to support, and to love, and to care. These illnesses, the ones that drive us to the depths of wanting to end our lives, don't need to hide in the darkness any more. It's time for them to be visible. It's time for them to speak their names. It's time for them to stop pushing people in to the shadows for fear that others will humiliate them for daring to say, “I don't feel well.”.

You are not alone. And you are precious. You are loved. You are beautiful. We live in a world that wants to push us in to those shadows, that wants us to hate ourselves because we're not “perfect”, that wants us to disappear because we don't fit into a mould.

Every one of us was born to be different. We weren't born to all look the same, or act the same, or think the same. You are amazing just the way you are. It's time for us to start accepting ourselves as we are and to stop beating ourselves up because we're different from what the world expects us to be. You, and your brain, are exactly where you're supposed to be right now. Time flies and, two years from now, all could be different. Hang on. Keep breathing. Keep living. Don't give up.

Don't ever give up.

Don't ever give up.

Don't ever give up.

You are worth so much more than deciding to step away now. Your thoughts, your ideas, your beauty, everything that makes you you is destined to be here right now. You are destined to be here. There's a reason for you living in this moment and it's not to step away. You are not a burden. You are not worthless. You are not useless. You are not nothing. You are someone.

You are a relative, a lover, a friend, a colleague, an internet chat friend, a social media commentator, a video creator, a blogger, an artist, a friendly face on a dark day. To someone, somewhere, you are something. You may not know it right now, but you are.

You are more than the darkness. 

Battling the Monster

Every day, I go to war with my mind, an organ that is in a constant battle to kill me. Every day, I get up and grin at the monster that looms before me. Black and stinking, with bloody fangs and pebble eyes, it grins at me, hoping that today will be its day to win.

The monster has never won. Every morning, I stand firm and grin at it, sending it scampering back to the place from which it has come.

You can't see the monster. But I can. This is the dark side of my brain. The place that tells me I can't do something. One of the haunting, horrible parts of having Bipolar. And whenever something good starts to happen, the monster makes an appearance, snarling and laughing, ready to snatch away whatever I've been building.

As you know, I've been working on several projects recently. Some of them are nearing completion faster than others. And this is when the monster decides to visit.

If you were reading last year, you may remember the Great Pumpkin Delivery of November 2015. It was an event that made me look myself in the eye and finally push beyond the fears that have been building for many years. That event was several hours of pure Hell. Of crying, of not eating, of being on my hands and knees as I fought with every ounce of my being to put the monster to sleep once and for all.

And it's here again. As pieces of the next project fall into place, the slumbering monster rises and stands before me.

You don't deserve this.

You can't do this.

You can't have this. It's not for you.

Crawling behind the blackened beast is the pain. Pain so harsh and so violent that, in the past, it's caused vomiting. It's like your soul is being dragged from your body. Desperately you try and cling to that precious fibre of your being but eventually the searing pain becomes too much to bear. You give up. You sit and cry before closing your eyes and hoping never to open them again.

And all the while, in the back of your head, that rasping voice hisses, Do it. It won't hurt for long and, when it's over, the pain will be gone forever.

Life becomes a battle of wits as I try and piece together this next book while artfully dodging around a creature that would like to see me dead. But, as happens every time, I can feel myself going in to my shut down mode. The mode where I don't talk, don't eat, and don't do anything other than go to work. I push people away and refuse to acknowledge anyone in my sphere. Because, as the monster has told me, I don't deserve any of this, not even people who care about me.

This is probably the hardest post I've ever written. It's also one of the most freeing. Rarely am I honest when it comes to how I truly feel. I much prefer to plaster on a smile and pretend that everything is okay. Because I'm healthy, right, and what more is there to life than that? But... There's always a but...

I don't want to lie to anyone who reads this. Life is hard today. Today hurts and aches with a pain that tears straight through the body. It feels as though I'm slowly being cut open. My eyes are dry and my face aches from the crying. Where there was once light at the end of the tunnel, there is now none. Darkness has settled and, in the distance, I can hear the monster cackling. Its claws are whispering over my skin and its putrid breath is trickling my cheek. I've given this battle my all and now I'm on my knees. The time is nearly upon us.

Yet tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow the sun will rise, and it will set. Life will happen all over again and it's another chance to battle the black monster. To stand up it, and smile, and say, “Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. You don't control me any more.”.

But I'm scared that one day I won't be strong enough to battle the monster that lives in my head.

I'm sorry.

~~~

Rae is an award winning author with several books to her name. When she's not battling the beast inside her head, she enjoys seeing how far life will take her. She's currently running a Kickstarter to help fund her first non-fiction book:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/raegee/living-las-vegas

Post-Gig Depression

It's real, folks. Very, very real. For many people, music isn't just a passing phase. It's a way of life. It's a big deal with bands and songs meaning something to them. They go to shows. They collect merchandise. They listen to the albums so often they can quote the songs word for word. Most of all, they have a connection to the people behind that music.

And there's no better place to experience that than at a concert. It's in those hallowed venues that friends and memories are made and deeper connections are formed. The people in the venue, whether they realise it or not, are a part of something. It's in those twilight, magic music filled moments that things happen. For most, if not all of them, the concert they're attending is something very special.

But it's what happens afterwards that many people don't think about. Have you ever been to a show and come out feeling as though life is amazing? Your skin tingles, your ears ring, and your brain whirls. You feel invincible. You feel as though you can take on the world.

And then you wake up the following morning. At first, you feel great. You go through the photos you took. You hum along with the songs you sang the previous night. You look at the merch you bought. You fondly remember the friends, both old and new, that you met.

Yet it doesn't last for long. As the day wears on you feel sad. You might put it down to tiredness, aching legs, or ringing ears. Your movements become slower and eventually you find yourself sitting and staring into space. With a giant sigh, you finally admit it to yourself.

I don't feel so good. And it's not because I'm tired and aching and cranky. My brain feels sad.

It happens as the endorphins from the previous evening begin to wear off. That natural high you found, and want to keep finding, is leaving. All you want to do is grab hold of it again and never let go. It's even harder to deal with if you want to see that band again and they're not coming anywhere near you for the next few years. Suddenly the wait feels like a lifetime. You might have to go through another tour cycle with the band visiting places you can only dream of visiting. You might have to wait for another album to be released. You might even have to wait while the band take a well earned break. It can seem like a long, long time.

Post-gig depression is very real and it's important that you take care of yourself in those moments. Talk to people you went to the show with, or even people you didn't. Surround yourself with fellow fans so you relive the excitement and plan for the next one. Just never give up on the music because soon it'll be time to dance again!

When It Becomes Too Much

TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with a subject matter that some people might find triggering.

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Eight carriages.

One hundred and twenty tons.

20 miles per hour.

It would have been so easy.

One last breath.

One last heartbeat.

Before the void had swallowed me whole.

I'd just read something that had left me debating my future. In a matter of moments, the crushing blackness of depression had changed me from happy-go-lucky to tired and weary, settling over me as quickly as the coming of winter. My heart and soul ached and my eyes stung with tears. Suddenly everything I was working towards felt pointless and I wondered why I was wasting my time.

Standing on the platform at Queensway Station, I realised how easy it would be to just step out into nothing. It would have erased so many problems. The feeling of hopelessness would have been snuffed out in the flash of a Tube train's headlights.

As I waited for those lights to pierce through the darkness, other thoughts began to cross my mind.

The train driver. How will they feel?

My family.

My friends.

The million and one other things I want to do with my life.

The things I want to say to people before my time's up.

The words people have said to me in recent months.

The tears continued to well up. The pain in my body was all to real, the dulled emotions I was feeling causing me to feel heavy and ill.

I wanted it to end.

I couldn't take it any more.

I'd already suffered for so long, the constant up and down of my moods grinding me down. Life, in that moment, was awful and, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the break I needed. My life was useless and hopeless. Why bother continuing? Why not just end it?

There's the rumble of an oncoming train. The warm rush of air in the tunnel. The bright orbs at the front of the train appear from the darkness.

I take a deep breath and watch as it closes in on the platform. This was it. I could do it. Wipe it out and go somewhere better.

The whoosh of the train racing into the station. The squeal of the brakes. Taking a deep breath, I took a step forward and boarded. A moment later the doors hissed closed behind me. I shut my eyes and leaned against the plastic wall before placing a hand over my heart.

I'm still here. That beating in my chest is the reason I'm here. It wasn't time to go yet.

~~~

If you're affected by anything written in this post, please speak to someone. You can find a list of helplines (sorted by country) on this website.

Look after yourself and don't let anyone dictate to you what your life should be like. It's your life. Live it as you see fit.