Winning a battle, losing a war.


Depression is a very long term illness. It never occurred to me in November that in five months time I would still be in the same place as I started. I thought that a few weeks on the medication and I would be tip top again. I’d be back to being Alice, happy and cheerful and bouncy.
But still, some nights I can’t sleep, eat, think or move. I have so much pain inside, pain that I can do nothing about. It’s so hard to describe this kind of pain – if you don’t know how it feels then I can’t explain it to you. The only thing you can think of doing is turning the pain that is impossible to deal with into something you CAN deal with. In the case of most people, this involves self-harm. Physical pain is something you can deal with, something you can fix with painkillers or rest or whatever – the main thing is that you can do something about it in the short term.
Last night, I felt like I was going to suffocate from the weight of sadness, isolation and guilt weighing down on me. The pain was unbearable and all I wanted to do was cut my self; arms, legs, face, anything to distract my self from the pain.

But I didn’t.

I held up. I rode out the pain and came out of it OK. Shaken, crying, nauseous. But unscathed.

I am proud. One battle is a big step to winning the war.

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