Sunday, 11 March 2018

I'm Not Who i Once Was


This is a topic that I'm frankly very afraid of talking about, but I need to do this, above all else, I need to do this for myself.

In December, I was offically diagnosed with depression.
I think I'd known for several years, roughly 5 or 6, that I had it. It had been plaguing me since the early years of high school, dominating my mandatory academic years. I was an outsider, generally friendless, and so escaped into books and fantasy lands to find comfort in lands that weren't my own. I'd never denied that it was there, but I finally plucked up the courage to go and talk to a medical professional about it. Having that diagnosis, as painfully ironic as it sounds, was one of the most satisfying feelings possible: to have an offical label assigned to the warfare going on inside my brain... to know there are things that can be done to help me, and people who are going to guide me through that beyond those I love, is so reassuring.

Depression is an illness. It is an illness of the brain. Bringing up my depression is a struggle because generally I feel embarrassed by it because I just want a nice, normal brain, and because there's so much bloody stigma attached to illnesses one can't physically see. Well, you can physically see my depression: you can see it in the purple bags under my eyes that come from being barely able to sleep. You can see it in my makeupless face, barely acknowledging how deathly I look. You can see it in the emptiness of my smile and the hollowness of my eyes when I "shut down," and when in dips, I drag myself through the motions. It is an illness, and it is evil, but I refuse to let it define me.

I refuse to be seen as "the girl with depression," because for a while I've struggled to see myself as otherwise, no matter how many people, especially my boyfriend, tell me that it doesn't matter, it isn't all that people see. There is so much more to me. I am Holly. I am the girl who is obsessed with Harry Potter, and who has a laugh like a witch's cackle. I am the girl who who wears scarves in all weathers and has an unhealthy attachment to black boots. I am the girl who will through her love at you, if you are loving too. And even in the pain, I am still there beneath the days where I can't move from my bed; beneath the minutes where the power cuts in my body and I need to leave the room, the movements around me blurring into one. I am still there. I, Holly, am still there.

But I'm also not the same person I was.

In January, I had the worst depressive dip I have encountered in my many years facing this illness. I could barely move from my bed for 2 weeks. I couldn't read, I couldn't watch anything. All I could do was feel so all-consumingly empty and sleep. Now, in mid-March, I am not the same person as I was before that, as before my depression started getting progressively worse in late-October. To a degree, I've lost nearly all sense of what I love on the internet and in my hobbies. Only now am I finding the overwhelming urge to read again, and I've realised how much I've missed that feeling. I'm currently on leave from my job at MuggleNet until I feel steady enough to return to my job as a Lead Editorialist there. And... then there's here: Lost in a Library. I've no idea who reads this blog right now or if anyone even touches it, but I've said I've no intention of giving up on this little space, and I firmly stand by that. This is my corner, my patchwork in a tiny cosmos in the galazy of the internet. I may not be around nearly as much as I used to be, and my content may be changing massively, but I am still here.

Things are going to be slightly different from now on: I'm not going to force myself to post stuff that I scheduled in when I was "well," and I'm not going to force myself into posting regularly for the sake of posting regularly. I'm not going to force myself to write anything unless I genuinley want to, and if I don't feel enthused about an idea that I once had, then that's okay. I will always be first and foremost, books first, but I want to bleed a little more creativity and generally life-based writing into this canvas. This is my space and I need to shape it now to how I am now, Holly: aged 19. Consider me like a very quiet jack-in-the-box: sometimes it might be a few days between posts, someitmes it might be a few months. I don't know... I'm just trying to manage, but I refuse to give up on this place, this blog, this little lovely place which has brought so much into my world.

I refuse to give up.

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