The Beginning

First things first, I guess.

I had an idyllic childhood, intact family, coastal holidays and good school marks. I had a good group of friends and received everything, material or not, that I wanted. I was raised with a good sense of Catholic morality; if you do good, you'll be rewarded, ergo, if you do bad you'll be punished. So it stood to reason that my friend who suffered domestic violence must have brought it on herself. Obviously this type of thinking is flawed.

I moved to Sydney for University where I lost my footing and became depressed, but didn't recognise it for what it was. I've since hypothesised that a lot of people who feel like we do don't know they're depressed or that they can get help. They feel that it's some type of moral failing. I felt guilty, that first time around. Who am I, who has had all this privilege and a duty to make something of it, to be ordinary? I sought no treatment at that time and gradually climbed my way into a place where the good at least equalled the bad.

But I ran from the experience. I was petrified that I would end up back there; I teared up thinking about it and became angry that nobody had asked me, "Do you think you might be depressed? Do you think that's why you can't stop crying or get out of bed?"

It's hard to see a friend suffering. Telling someone that you think they need help seems like a blunt, offensive thing to do. But asking someone, "Do you think you might be depressed?" names the symptoms a person has, tells that person "I recognise you're not happy and I'm not going to compound it by telling you to 'Cheer Up' ".

There's a lot more to my story but it's more recent and as such I'm less able to be objective about it. To tackle my newest bout of depression I've been taking 150 mg of Effexor XR and seeing a counsellor. For a while, I couldn't write, but my therapist suggested that I use one of my five strengths (more on those later), being articulate, to be happier again. Hence, this blog.

To be honest I don't want to get better because once I'm better I have no excuses. I know this is an unhealthy mindset and once I am healthy I'll be less scared. Until then, there's the Effexor monsters in my dreams and the invisible sunglasses I seem to continually wear, that darken all of my experiences. It's not a life I would choose nor recommend.