BLEEK welcomes 2016 with open arms and a lot of self reflection, like what the hell happened to the last few months of my life!!??!
You may or may not have noticed, BLEEK's been down the last few months, not just digitally, but mentally too, I was seriously down - the website mirrored my life. Forget winter blues, this was full on Depression lying on my back and making me do face plant in the dirt - those around me threw up their hands not knowing what to do.
I'm talking major mental health that took hold of my life so completely there was nothing I could do.
Except there was, Depression just told me there wasn't, like it had told me that I was a "waste of space" a "hopeless piece of human crap" and many more that would make a sweary beardy sailor proud. You'll forgive me for referring to Depression as if it’s a person, its one of the ways I've learnt to deal with it over the last 20years, separate it from me, because the me that's well doesn’t recognise the me with Depression. The me that's well is horrified and mortified at the lows the Depressed me will stoop to, so to preserve my fragile ego, Depression became an alter ego, a Mr Hyde to my Dr Jekyll.
The self reflection was spurred on by my loving, albeit, fed up, partner, who coolly and logically pointed out to me that however bad I was feeling, it was infinitely worse without a few basic things - one of those being food. I really don't know why this wasn't immediately obvious to me, I am the poster child for 'Hangry' - (When you are so hungry that your lack of food causes you to become angry, frustrated or both - Urban Dictionary). It was probably because Depression made me not give a dam about my self - "if you're a waste of space anyway what's the point of taking care of yourself?" it said, "it makes no difference to your life, it won't make things better". What Depression didn't do is tell me the flipside - it never gives a balanced argument because that doesn't suit its ends of keeping you scared, isolated and hopeless, it’s the only way it can survive.
What Depression doesn't tell you is how much worse things are going to get if you listen.
So here I am, still sore from going about 50 rounds with Depression over the last few months, but determined to do a lot better. It's still here, but I've locked it in the cupboard for now, I can hear the banging but it's voice is much quieter.