Photo credit to Unsplash

Heads Under The Hammer

I’ve been writing about my own path through depression for a few years now and it’s beginning to dawn that as soon as I think I know the route the directions change.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve sat at this screen and tapped some words into my keyboard. Maybe it’s lockdown. Maybe it’s Winter. Maybe it’s Maybelline. But whatever it is, I’m struggling.

This time round it’s the less glamorous aspects of depression that have begun to seep into me this time. It’s odd that that’s what’s striking me. Is it that my self-esteem is so low that I’m actually criticizing myself for doing depression wrong? It’s kind of true though. I dare you to google image depression right now and you will be inundated with a thousand black and white images of people with fantastic hair cradling their heads in their hands.

Photo Credit from Unsplash — I swear on my life I wrote the next part of the article before I found this photo which makes my point all the more poignant

When I picture depression, I picture the dark haired lady, staring into the black coffee with make up that says “I’m-damaged-but-in-a-sexy-way.” I, kind readers, am damaged-in-a-needy-boring-way-that’s-no-fun-at-parties. (I am not attending parties because whilst I am depressed, I am obediently following COVID19 rules. So that’s a plus.) The fact that I found this exact image when I searched a stock images for depression after writing this is a hilarious cosmic joke. This gothic depressed princess has a love for poetry, completes daily tasks to a high standard and whilst has the reputation for ‘a bit of a loner’ everyone in her life reaches out endlessly and just wants to get to know her better.

I am struggling to shower and brush my teeth. I’m either eating everything or nothing and I don’t think I’ve slept without the aid of medication in two weeks. I’ve not told anyone yet, I’ve not got the the courage up yet. Dark haired gothic depressed princess would probably just have to nod a certain way and the hot bartender would say “…I can see you’re struggling. Let me in.” I guess my life is kind of the same, except it’s the man at the Co-Op noticing my greasy hair and averting his eye’s when he says “cash or card?”

I’ve been thinking about writing these posts and what their purpose are. They don’t really have a beginning, middle or an end…they’re not very funny or consistent. But I think they’re honest? I think, at least I hope, they let people know that they’re not alone.

Thank — you for reading, as always