Depression ~ Entry Two ~ Grief

A few days ago I shared the news that I had been diagnosed with depression at the age of twenty four, and as I assumed, this has been long awaited. Just to recap my first post, when I entered my third job in the care sector it was as if everything had hit me at once. I was a different person, and as a result I'm now dealing with the horrible days that depression is bringing. In the first post, I explored why depression had sunk its claws into me. Was it because I realised that I no longer had passion in the career I worked so hard for? Maybe it's because I'm now growing up and realising that the illnesses of several family members is getting to me? Or is it because my life as of the moment doesn't seem to be going anywhere compared to most of the people I know? Honestly, I'm still in the dark. The purpose of me writing this blog is not just to educate myself, in the sense of revealing why I might be feeling this, but to give courage to other people that might be suffering from depression too. I was touched to receive messages from fellow suffers, and I'm glad it gave you courage. 

It's sunny today.

So here I am at 9.30AM on Sunday morning. I've just come back from my mate's house, where we drank and laughed and spoke of memories and good times. Everything was so full of promise, that we can do what we want with our lives. Of course, the drink had its part to play in that; I realise that. Anyhow, now I'm home, and feeling not as groggy any more, I wanted to explore further into my depression. My situation has changed since my first post a few days ago. I now cover shifts at my friend's shop; his actual shop that he owns. It's the first time I've ever done retail, or any kind of job other than care work, and I absolutely love it. I engage with the customers, I'm learning about transactions, stock, quality control, and specifics, and I love it all. I don't get many shifts, it's mainly when the staff are on holiday or some one is ill. I'm fine with that, in all honesty it works out best for me because I want to take control of my life slowly but securely. I'm also further into my T-shirt business, where my website is getting new hits every few days. I'm looking into having a stall once or twice a week. I'm in touch with my friends again, doing several activities I enjoy, and I'm thinking about continuing my novel ... and yet something is missing.

A question in the dark. 

I feel fortunate that I realised I was suffering from depression in an early stage. Had I not gone to the doctors I may have felt there was something wrong with me. After all, my friends are having a quality time, they enjoy their work, they have things they're looking forward to, they regular update Facebook with their friends and family. Even with the diagnoses I feel like an outcast, as though I don't belong in any group. It's true that some of my friends have been supportive, and I'm truly grateful, I'm sure depression is making me feel vulnerable, but I can't help feel that I'm actually alone in this battle. As they say, depression is a battle in the dark. I'm looking after myself now, and things have improved, but my mentality has changed little. Only yesterday I went out to do some shopping with my friend, and I couldn't help but compare my image with other people. I beat myself up about it mentally, felt ashamed by how I looked, that I weren't completely in shape. Even now I feel like I'm letting myself down because I'm not being my true self, I'm not being kind to myself. It's a strange feeling, I've always had anxiety, but almost 95% of the time (before the depression) I learned to ignore it, and everything was great, until now that is. Truth being told, I no longer feel proud for being me, and that is tearing me inside. 

So why am I feeling this way?

I wished there was a simple answer to why. I go back to the time I felt so proud of myself, and everything I had done. I go back to the time where I was productive, involved, contributing to society. I go back to the time I was there for my friends, strong for myself, and full of joy and possibilities. And all this was before I started my third job in the care sector. The truth being told; at the age of 24 I realised that half of my life had come to an end, the career I once loved was something that was tearing me. At the age of thirteen I was volunteering with people with learning disabilities, up until I left the group to help stroke survivors for the Stroke Association, which then led me to doing three years degree in Health Care, finally landing three jobs in care work since. And now I look at myself today and realise that the career I once loved is no longer something I take joy in. That is why I think my life suddenly took a turn for the worst. The realisation was sudden and terrible, and now I doubt my credibility, skills and employability. I was so confident I would work up to be a senior, a lead senior, and then a manager. I had ideas, full of ambitions of how I would work with the staff and make their working lives so much better. It was almost a dream to work my way to the role. And now it's all gone, shattered. I truly believe it's because of the family members at home that are ill, and that I've realised I have somewhat neglected them. I was taking care of strangers and ignoring my family. Today, that's different. I'm closer with my family since the depression, I'm helping out so much more. I wouldn't say the realisation has ended my life as such, but it's left me in an abyss where I can't grasp what I want to do with my life. For so many years of my life I was running in a direction, and now the path has been torn apart by a storm. Yet I've salvaged a few things, as mentioned before, I'm now doing cover work in retail. Is this the result of my depression? Knowing that my love for my career has come to an end? Perhaps I'm in a strange sort of grief? I don't know. 

When I was finishing college, my teacher sat me down and discussed university. I was so pleased to be thinking about it. I told him I was going to do Creative Writing. People say I come alive when I talk about novels, reading and writing. Truly, I believe I do too, I fucking love it. "Creative Writing won't get you anywhere in life. You should do care work, something you said you would enjoy. Don't bother with the writing." He said, and I took the other route. Would I say I regret it? Most likely no, because as a result of my choice I have met some wonderful people who are now my friends, including my best friend. Perhaps it's time to think about my other career and get my head down in creative writing, while working on the T-shirt business and covering part time for my friend's shop. 

My purpose of writing this is to help me, sort of like self therapy. And it's here to give courage to others who may be suffering too. As a result of writing this post, I've realised I'm possibly in grief. Many of the things I once did I will possibly not do again. A chapter has come to an end, and another is about to begin. You may smirk at some of the grammar mistakes above. I guess I should be more careful in my writing when writing blog posts, yet I feel the best sort of writing comes unedited from the heart. Perhaps I'm not in the dark, truly. Perhaps my mood is just positive this morning ... who knows.