Today I made a pledge to tell my mental health story. I made that promise as part of Time To Talk Day, run by Mind and Rethink Mental Illness. My name is Emily. I love Bond films and dog walking. I live with depression.
I don’t want to dwell on the past, I’d rather look to my future and hope it is bright like sunshine. My life feels like a slow-motion car crash at the moment. Everything precious is shattered and flying past me like a freeze frame of a mirror smashed.
I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault, but I know that isn’t true. I’m scared I don’t have the strength to see this off again, but I’m sure I will.
I am dizzy and disoriented, like being on drugs. Well I am on drugs! (Fluoxetine), and hopefully it’ll stabilise me in a week or two.
The things that are keeping me going are: the furry faces of the dogs. My gentle housemate who’s not phased in the slightest by any melodrama. The kindness of friends at work who send me helpful apps and videos and Snaps. A stranger who sends delightfully unorthodox emails and messages. Emily and Iain and Elaina, who blog the painful and tedious minutiae involved in just trying to get through a day. Love from my family. The friends on Facebook who have also shared their battles with mental health. In fact, all the people who put their heads above the parapet to say ‘me too’ and ‘me too’ and ‘me too’. Because it’s hard to expose pain, be vulnerable, let the scars show.
#TimeToTalk resonates today and an outpouring of support makes itself felt across social media. It’s nice to feel part of that movement, but it’s good to remember that I’m lucky to have people in my everyday life who are with me each step of the way. My name is Emily, and I am not alone
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