The last few days I’ve been caught up in a depressive cycle, every time I’ve written my mind has gone blank, and the small pocket of inspiration vanishes in a cloud of grey.
Depression is so hard for me to handle, I just sit down and vegetate. Anxiety usual takes the wheel, it feels like my brain has gone from 100mph to zero, as the grey takes over my mind.
I’ve been writing for almost a week so I thought I’d introduce myself, and tell you my story. I’m keeping my anonymity though as it makes it so much easier to talk about my own mental health.
I was born to two disabled parents who I’ve spent most of my life taking care of, my mother always resented me as I was far from perfect in her eyes, she would lose it and hit me.
Most of my childhood felt like I was living with a bomb that could go off at any time, it created my anxiety, and it flourished. I cannot remember a time that I wasn’t anxious or depressed.
Then in my late teens, I was raped by someone who was meant to be my friend, and I never told a soul. A year later I confided in my boyfriend of the time, who actually told everyone, and I became the girl who cried rape.
You were meant to look after me,
nurture and protect me.
Instead, your anger would burst out at me, engulf me, until all that was left was the salt from my tears.
Who’s fault was it? Did I enrage you that much?
You could not hear me, believe me, all I wanted was your love.
But you knew better, where better, did better.
I was nothing, no one, and worthless.
I did not matter, it was you who really called the shots.
Tried to mould me to be like you, never accepted me for who I was.
I would never be like you, see you, or believe in you.
I would no longer be your puppet, I am me, accept it as you see.
I can’t take it, this will that keeps me in;
It hurts me, lies to me, and I let it win.
A bang becomes a siren for the bad things to come.
Flashing in my memories of all the things you have done.
The anger, the fear; it soon marries itself all into one.
Until the only thing I can feel is the impulse for me to run.
You don’t stand for me anymore but the scars have never truly healed.
You will be with me all my life, I will never truly leave.
As much as I don’t want to think, or see, or hear you.
The flashes keep coming to me every day of the hell you turned us into.
I’m trying to sleep as a noise scares me in the distance. I can’t move, my teeth clench, ears ring, and I start to hyperventilate.
Palms get sweaty, my whole body shakes, I cannot speak, I begin to twitch and the whole time the reasons for a noise downstairs race through my head.
It was merely a noise you may say, but to me, it’s a potential threat, still haunted by abuse and trauma. I lie here like a corpse hoping no one is there.
If there was an intruder what could I do? I can’t move or shout for a neighbour. I wish I wasn’t stuck here wondering what nightmare waits for me.
But instead I’ll just lie here until the threat is over, as my chest tightens, I see the hallway on the ceiling. The torment my mind has created has gone into overdrive.
Why does it make us feel like we are about to die?
Today I cannot look outside, the flashbacks seem to come all the time, the past abuse that haunts my core, from my mother, my friend, and my lover.
They were never good to me, rape, sexual abuse, physical abuse, and threatening behaviours.
Now all I can do is see what’s in the past, no future ever guides me, as it will not let me go.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend, they tend to leave me when they’ve had there fun, they never understand my mental health, and then I’m left back on the shelf.
The Lady Prince 