BugReBorn

formerly Bew!ldered Bug

Hi Lovelies!

Now that I’m restarting a blog, I wanted to move a lot of the more meaningful blogs from my Bew!ldered Bug to BugReBorn.  I thought the best way to do this was my version of #ThrowbackThursdays.

I hope you still enjoy reading these, because many of these are still so very relevant to a lot of people in the world today.  I’ve decided to not rewrite some of them.  Some will be slightly edited.  They’ll all still be straightforward and honest, as I try to maintain that in all of my writing.

This particular one was one of the first of my #MentalHealthMondays blogs.  Some of the links will be broken until the entire series is up – but in a few weeks I’ll have all four parts of my Depression Series up for you to read.

I hope some of you relate to this and we can start this conversation again.  #Mentalhealth is important!

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It’s amazing how one can deny one’s actions when depressed.  I think a common thread between everyone I know who has been depressed or is depressed is this – escapism is a huge part of their life.

It is very, very easy to let the depression overtake your life, and it occurs slowly and stealthily, like a thief in the night it creeps into your space, creates havoc and eventually murders your happiness.  You never know what you have until you lose it and when you lose your ability to fight depression, it’s extremely difficult to get it back.

Most will look for alternatives.  If you can no longer find joy and happiness in your normal life, then maybe you can find it through abnormal methods.  Escapism comes into play and you look for something to bring feeling, if not happiness, back to your world.  Often this is when alcohol or drugs enter one’s life.  This is when wanton sexual trysts occur.  This is the part of your life that becomes the part you don’t want to remember and definitely don’t want to talk about.  This is the part of your life that those who care for you don’t want to know about.  This is the part that your loved ones definitely will not want you to write about in your blog.

This is the part of my life that I entered once I finally made it back to Canada after THAT night.  Even though I initially felt as if a huge burden was lifted from me when I got away from my parents’ home and their rules, I still had not found my happiness.  I went looking for it elsewhere – in that part of humanity that is furthest from what I was brought up to be.

I fueled myself with shame, anger and regret.  I refused to admit to myself or anyone else that I was going down the wrong road – to me, I was living as an independent woman.  I refused to admit to myself that maybe, just maybe, this was not a healthy way to live.  I made “friends” with people who would take full advantage of my naivety.  At the back of my mind, I knew they were taking advantage but I truly didn’t care.  I didn’t believe I was worth any better.  I  did however, choose who I hung out with carefully, going for those who seemed as desperate as I was or who were more deranged than I was.  I put myself in so many dangerous situations; now I look back on it all and I cannot recognize myself then.  I doubt that my current friends would either.

One night, a girl I thought was my friend stormed off in a rage and left me alone with a group of drunk and riled up hockey players after clubbing.  She had picked them up in the club, danced for them and made out with most of them – and then left me behind with them.  Our coat tickets were in her cigarette case – along with my Visa, my ID, and her cards.  She had given one of the hockey players the cigarette case to hold for her, but then gotten pissed off with him when he grabbed her privates as she was making out with him.

He in turn got annoyed and stormed out of the club.  When I told her to calm down because we could get the other guys to get him for us, she turned around and slapped me – and then walked off and never came back.  Luckily, one of these guys who had been talking to me that night was respectful – he gave me his number, got my friend’s wallet from his friend and sent me on my way before anything more explosive could happen.  It could have been a much more disastrous night – thank God it ended up being traumatic for me (with regards to my friend deserting me), but not disastrous.

I lay curled up on my mattress at home later that night, crying and wondering what I had done that made me like this, what had I done to deserve this treatment from the people I had been meeting and hanging out with.  I had never felt lower and I never prayed harder or more earnestly.

I woke up the next morning more numb than ever, but I ignored it, slightly embarrassed at my own private show of weakness and went on living in the same manner as before…..

What I do know now is this – there is hope – there is always hope no matter how low and alone you feel.  I am religious but I’m not going to get into how my faith saved me – because although I believe it played a part, it wasn’t the prevelant thing in my life that brought me back at that time.  The hard work I put in and the patience of those around me are more prevalent in my road to healing.

Am I healed?  I do not believe – I do not believe that you’re ever “healed” from depression.  I am better, but I would be lying if I said that I do not feel it creeping up on me every once in a while.  I would be lying if I said I am not slightly agoraphobic and that I don’t experience days and sometimes weeks when I don’t want to get out of bed and that I am never terrified to walk out of my front door into normal society.

What I do know is that I need to keep going – if not for myself then for those who worked so hard to get me out of that dark dark place.

That is now what fuels me.  They are what I live for. They are what makes me fight the demons that often threaten to drag me back down.  They are why I (successfully for the most part) fight to keep those demons at bay,.

 “Sober” by Pink – definitely encompasses what I’m trying to get across today.

The third and final parts of this series will speak about how depression affects a family, not just the immediate person and will touch on some of the things that a typical supporter or a depressed person has to go through.

If you haven’t read it, please see Part 1 on what I believe was my worst night and Part 3 on how depression affects the family, not just the depressed person.  And finally, please visit Part 4, my advice to family members to help them get through this difficult time.

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