Wonderland.

“We're all mad here. Im mad. You're mad” 

Intriguingly, and somewhat ironically, I have been finding that aspects of my life can be likened to those of the events in the children's fantasy tale of Alice in Wonderland. Alice, having followed an odd looking rabbit concerned about being late, finds herself falling very rapidly down a strange and scary hole,

“Down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.” 

before emerging in a room of strange delicacies that completely alter her body and being faced with a set of doors that she cannot fit through.

While Alice's experiences are a little reminiscent of an acid trip gone wrong, her situation vividly reminds me of my own. I feel as though I'm falling, and each time I think I have hit rock bottom, the ground beneath me crumbles and I continue to fall, and I, like Alice, have no idea how in the world I will get out again. I stare at the person who is supposed to be me in the mirror but my body warps before my very eyes, each day I feel larger and less sure of what I am than before and I loathe what meets my eyes.

“How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from one minute to another.” 

I find myself presented with options for my future, similar to the doors which Alice struggles to get through in the story, but I can never fit through the doorway that could lead to the potential wonderland. So I am stuck in perpetual free fall, utterly lost and bewildered, unable to make a decision about anything and unconsciously doing everything in my power to destroy everything in my life that is good.

“Alice came to a fork in the road. 'Which road do I take?' she asked.

'Where do you want to go?' responded the Cheshire Cat. 

'I don't know,' Alice answered. 

'Then,' said the Cat, 'it doesn't matter.” 

Alice had a wonderland to look forward to, after a terrifying yet exhilarating adventure. This is where the difference in the our situations lies; all I see before me is darkness, pain and death. I cannot see that things will ever get better, or that I have a hope of a life better than this painful existence. And there's nothing wonderful about that.

Weakness.

Having recently written a post on the strength and resilience of humanity, it has struck me that while we all possess immense strength, we are also all incredibly vulnerable. On some days, our ability to survive and to thrive shines out like a beacon of hope in the dark. Yet on others, the black cloud that traps our minds is all consuming, and this cloud leaves us so emotionally drained and sensitive that anything can trigger a breakdown of epic proportions. As one of my therapists once said to me 'It's like having the top layer of your skin removed'. Everything is felt that little bit more acutely, rawly; you have scraped the bottom of your resources jar and you barely have the energy to hold your head up. And it is at this time, our weakest, that calling out to others is vital. So often people withdraw from the world when they can't escape from their own skull, but this only perpetuates the pain. It can often be the hardest thing to do- it can feel humiliating, exhausting, not worth the effort but asking for help will, more often than not, bring you some comfort. It will drag you a little way out of the hole that is being dug around you and it will shine a little light into the gloomy corners of your mind. And no, others won't be able to take the pain away. They won't be able to make everything OK and they may not even be able to comprehend the pain you are in, but in desperate times, even a hug, a cup of tea and a shoulder to cry on can help to begin to heal the raw agony of emotional pain. We cry out for help at our weakest, and humanity will answer this cry, this plea. And that is, in my mind, possibly is humanities greatest strength of all. 

So I'm back...

Although I'm pretty sure that nobody will have missed my writing, I'm back. I've been away for a while, staying on a psychiatric ward for acutely mentally ill adolescents. It's a little odd- despite being someone who has always been able to express their experiences well, I find it almost impossible to talk or write in detail about the ward. I was there for nearly three months and although I met some of my best friends there, and it stopped me from killing myself, it was really horrible. These last few months have been utterly unbearable. Again, oddly, I'm lost for words. My blog is generally written with intent to provoke thought in the reader, or to encourage others, but I don't seem to be able to think of anything to say. All I can say is: I'm still alive, despite everything, despite all of my attempts to end my life. And if you're reading this then you, too, are alive. And that is something. Currently, you are winning the frantic battle that rages on in your body and mind. Even if your life is as you want it to be, it is still an achievement that you are alive. So well done. Keep going.

Everyone gets sick.

This weekend has been a bit of a challenge and I have found video making a positive distraction. Have a watch and share to help make a difference to others who are suffering. 

Warp.

One thing I have come to understand in the past months is that depression drastically warps our outlook on life. 

It is as though you are looking at life through a kaleidoscope, the only difference being that while a kaleidoscope turns light into beautiful mosaic like patterns, depression makes light look dark, colours look grey and the most beautiful of things look, at best, ordinary. Depression warps one's perception of the world around us: Filtering out the good, positive, life affirming things so that what we are left with is a hopeless cavity into which all things are drawn and warped to appear negative, hence compounding our view that there is really no reason for us to live at all. Whatever we have previously enjoyed, believed in or relished is sucked from our world; we lose, in essence, the ability to derive pleasure from anything or to hold on to any hope that life will be good again.  

And regardless of how well my head knows the fact that it is the depression taking away my will to live, it doesn't change the fact that I CAN'T see the point to life. I can't tell the depression to leave my head, simply because I have recognised the cause of my despair. The fact of the matter is, depressed people still FEEL the despair, the loneliness, the hopelessness, the futility, the sadness, the frustration, the impulse to hurt and even kill themselves, the emptiness and so much more. Regardless of what causes these emotions, they are very much present and dominant in the lives of so many people. Depression warps everything good in the lives of its sufferers into something unbearable. And that's hard to live through.