It’s been over a year since my nan died, and I’ve felt absolute shit every single day. And it feels like I’m just getting worse, and as I tell people (including myself) that “I’m ok” on a day-to-day basis. I’m not ok. Far from it, actually.
I’ve spent an entire month on this, staying up late at night, contemplating if this was a good idea or not. But I suppose if I don’t talk about it now, I never will. Before it’s too late.
I need help.
I have most (if not all) of the symptoms for suffering from anxiety and depression:
- Every time I talk to people in public, I become breathless, I start to zone out of the conversation, and I get this overwhelming feeling that I’m going to pass out. It’s so frustrating. It puts me off going anywhere with friends, so I stay at home all day. Bored out of my mind.
- My self-confidence is so low at the moment. I always feel uneasy about the way I look in public. There’s a reason why I never post pictures of myself on Facebook or Twitter. I look fucking ugly. And when people are laughing nearby, I think that they’re laughing at me, so I start to feel uncomfortable. Also, when people are looking at me in public, I start sweating and my breathing becomes more erratic.
- I’m always tired, no matter how many hours of sleep I have, and I feel physically drained all of the time.
- It takes me hours, maybe even days, to answer text messages or e-mails, because I’m always worried that I’ll come across as rude. I have to spend about half an hour re-reading things about ten times, whether it’s text messages, e-mails, whatever, just so I’m happy about what I’m saying, and I’m not going to offend them.
- I’m getting to a point where I don’t want to leave my house anymore unless I really have to. I’m too nervous to go anywhere, especially where there’s going to be lots of people near me. Going to watch football is a nightmare, and I have to prepare myself mentally for being in a stand with thousands of people.
- I get headaches almost every day, no matter how much I eat, drink, sleep or exercise.
- Any noise can annoy the living fuck out of me. Even loud and/or repetitive sounds, like putting the kettle on, running a tap, talking, whistling, rattling keys, washing machines – they piss me off so much.
- I’ve now started to punch walls when things are getting too stressful, or I’m pissed off at something or someone. I don’t punch walls to the point where I make my knuckles bleed, or where I break a bone in my hand, I do it until my knuckles turn red.
- And finally, I’ve started to think about suicide and death more, especially over the last few months. I’m having constant dreams where the people I love are dying, like family members and friends, and then I jump off a bridge and kill myself. That’s not normal. I’m also starting to think more about the different ways I could actually kill myself, and I’m getting these moments where I feel that life is not worth living anymore. It feels like people would be better off if I wasn’t around at times.
It’s no surprise that I think I’m suffering from anxiety. Those people who went to the same primary school as me will know that I suffered from Selective Mutism. For the first few years of primary school, I never used to speak to people in school. I could talk when I was home, but as soon as I got to school, I lost the ability to speak. And it got to a point where my mum actually had to come into class, just so I could talk. It was embarrassing.
However, I suppose that the main reason why I think I’ve started suffering from depression is because of the last twelve months. It’s been over a year since I lost my nan, and I’m still struggling to cope. One of the hardest moments of my nan’s death was dealing with the regret. Regret for not seeing her as much as I should have done. The last time I saw her before she died was at my brother’s wedding, in June 2014, and I can’t recall seeing her once afterwards. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for what I did, and I wish I could go back and change that. But I can’t.
After my Nan’s funeral, I genuinely thought everything would be ok again. I thought I could go to college a week later, and pretend like nothing had happened. But I’ve felt worse ever since. There’s so much shit going through my head at the moment, and I’m getting to a point where I’m struggling to cope. I’m so fucking stressed right now.
It doesn’t help that I haven’t seen any of my friends properly for about five months, and it’s making me go crazy. It makes me upset when I see some of them walking past my house, laughing and having a fun time, while I’m sat in my house, wondering why my life is so fucking shit.
I’m also dreading the day I get my exam results back, as I spent so much time and effort revising on my AS exams, to the point where I was close to having a mental breakdown, and I just know I did awful in them. I even focused everything on my exams and made it my number one priority – no friends or family, no distractions, no nothing. I spent every day for five months revising for my shit exams. For what exactly? Fuck all, that’s what.
But it’s not the grades which are the main issue here. It’s my parents that’s the problem. They seem to have high expectations of me, and I’m fucking terrified how my parents are going to react when they realise that their son is a disappointment in life (again). I know what they’ll say. “Ooh, you’ll need to buckle down more” or something like that. Even though if I revised even more than I did, then I would have slit my wrists by now.
I’m also being constantly pressured into getting a job by my family, even though they don’t know that I’m struggling as it is already. A job would make me even worse, but they just don’t fucking get it.
And then there’s the fact that I’m really in love with someone. After my nan died, my friend (I won’t mention her name) was the only person who was there for me, and the only person I could talk to about how I was feeling. She was so helpful for me, and if she wasn’t there for me, I would have been six feet under by now. And I will always thank her for it. For saving my life. She’s honestly one of the most important people I’ll ever meet, and I love her so much. But I physically can’t. I just don’t have the courage or confidence at the moment with the way I’m feeling. And it’s killing me.
Honestly, there’s so much going through my mind, and if I could just escape it all for a few weeks or months, I would have done by now. But I can’t.
I’ve spent an entire month, staying up at night, wondering if this was a good idea or not. But I suppose if I don’t talk about it now, I never will. Before it’s too late.