Hey again from me, Bee! So today I’d like to open up about my depression and how I deal with it daily. I’m sure anyone who reads my blog regularly is over having to read about depression, but it’s such a big thing and so widespread that I feel it should be spoken about often. You never know who you might save.

I’d say that my depression started when I hit puberty at the tender age of 11. Then it wasn’t as severe, I just cried a lot about things I didn’t understand and things that I had gone through that I now understood. I wasn’t very pretty while going through puberty so I was rejected a lot and told I was ugly so you can imagine that it didn’t help with what was already happening in my head (this is why you keep your mouth shut if you have nothing nice to say). Imagine being 13, depressed and just wanting acceptance from your peers and they tell you that you’re ugly and fat, lol it sucks.

When I was 15 I met someone that liked me and it was lovely finally being liked. We were together for quite a while, but unfortunately, he just didn’t understand my brain and didn’t know how to deal with my manic episodes or my overthinking and if you don’t have the support of your partner, it makes things a million times worse because now you have to face this completely alone. At this time I wasn’t on medication and I had no idea what was truly going on with my brain, I only knew I hated it and wanted it to be gone. I cried for no reason, I had panic attacks all the time, I was self-harming (my self-harming started when I was in grade 5 already) I’d go to bed super late and sleep until almost 2 pm each day.

So let me open up about what I assume brought this on. When I was 8 I had this best friend and I’d spend weekends at her place, my mom was under the pretence that my friends mom was home, however she would lie to my mom and go out with her friends and leave us at home with her father (my friends grandfather). I remember it starting as “accidents”, he would purposefully not wear underwear and expose himself to us and if I shouted out about what he was doing he would try shut me up and say it was an accident. I thought nothing of it, I was 8 and just assumed the best thing to do would be to avoid him and NEVER be alone with him. This didn’t work out unfortunately and it ended up with him molesting me while my friend was next to me. I’d move his hand away or I’d get up and leave because even though I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, I knew I didn’t like it, but I also thought I’d get into trouble if I said anything. I was so afraid I’d be blamed for what he was doing that I just kept quiet. I was also older than my friend and I thought if he was doing this to me, he must be doing it to her too and so I always felt this strong need to protect her. She was teased a lot in school and so I was her big sister.

He would come into our room late at night and try and kiss me, I would push him away and hide my head under the blanket until he left the room. I remember laying next to my friend the one night when we were a little older, I asked her if he would touch her inappropriately and she just looked at me and turned on her side. For me that was confirmation enough that he was doing the same, if not worse to her. Especially when I wasn’t around. My mom had her maternal instincts and would always question me about my friend’s grandfather. She would always say I could be honest with her and I was still so ashamed and scared I’d be blamed that I would always say everything was fine and she shouldn’t worry. Obviously, my mom wasn’t dumb, but she believed me because I’d kick up a fight if I couldn’t go see my best friend. So she continued to let me go there until one day I came home complaining of a sore bladder (I started getting bladder infections all the time) and my mom quickly put a stop to me going there, even if I kicked up a fight.

When I turned 11 that’s when we got taught about sexual abuse in school and all of a sudden everything fell around me. I would cry myself to sleep at night, I felt so violated and dirty. As I got older, so the depression weighed down on me, I hated myself and my body, because it didn’t feel like it was mine anymore. I developed a weird view on sex and all things that go with it. Finally, when I turned 18, I sat in my mom’s car on the last day of my final exams and I poured my heart out to her about what had happened to me all those years ago. We cried extremely hard and then I was booked to see a psychologist to try and help me through my trauma. Back then I didn’t think it helped, but now I’m 22 and I can say that I am honestly over that trauma. I turned it into strength because I realised that I was giving my time and energy to some sick perverted fuck and I refused to allow any of it anymore. I stopped self-harming by 17 after I had a really bad episode and blacked out in my bathroom. After therapy I no longer cried about what had happened, instead, I embraced it enough to use it as a way to build myself up again.

I have only been on medication for about 5 months now for my depression that will unfortunately never go away, but with mindfulness and my medication, I feel as though I am slowly becoming the girl I remember. Also, a healthy relationship with friends, family and your partner are so vitally important for your mental health. If it no longer brings you joy, throw it out.

Thanks for taking the time to read through this long post. If you or anyone you know needs someone to speak to, please contact me, even if you’re from halfway around the world, having solid support can do the world of wonders. Stay sweet x