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Goodbye Barma

Sunday, April 13, 2014

I have trouble speaking my words, but writing them has always come easily to me.
And oh, I need to write. I need to get this out, the only way I can right now.
Im sorry, but my baby is gone and I am suffocating.

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon. It’s been so cold lately, I was so happy for the sun.
I woke up with Barma under the blankets at the end of my bed, hes so fluffy and warm and sometimes he licks my toes. I look to the end of my bed and whisper “Barma’ and he pops his little head up out of the blankets and looks at me for a full ten seconds before flopping his head back down and sighing. 


Myrtle (the name I gave that damn black fog in my head) has been very loud, very loud lately. I had spent most of Saturday morning crying in my bed for no good reason, just because I was so full to the brim with those devastating feelings that had no face or form I could discern. No rhyme or reason. Barma wiggled his way to the top of my bed and he'd lick my tears and I'd laugh because it was hella gross, but that would kick me out of my moods.

It was cold this morning though, so I put on his sheep skin jacket. It was his favourite. And he just looked so damn cute in it.
Alisha stayed home because she wasn’t feeling well and I was glad because Barma wouldn’t be alone. He hated being alone. Didn't stop him from trying to follow me out the door though, like he always does.

We went to church, and it was a good day. I was proud of myself for making it through the day, because it was well worth it. We were late getting home though. I keep thinking had we got home a little sooner, maybe we would have found him before ...

He wasn’t there when we got home. He didn't greet us at the door in an excited haze like he usually did. But this wasn’t unusual, he had this weird super power to somehow escape the back yard. I built the fence higher, I plugged the holes and put tin where he tried to dig. But somehow he’d get out. His separation anxiety was a violent thing. But he only tried to get out when he was alone though so Im still confused why he left when someone was still home.
We went for a drive to find him and we couldn't, and a little panic set in, deep in my belly. After checking all the usual places we finally checked home again and I checked my phone. I had a missed call.
The missed call was from a lady, she said she had Barma and then what she said next stopped my heart. He’d been hit by a car. She was bringing him home. I tried to call her to find out how bad he was, find out where she was. Because I knew if I could just get to him it would be okay. We got through things he and I. We always did.
We got home, I could see Mums silhouette in the window rocking Barma back and forth. Dad greeted us at the door.
‘He came home?’ I said
Dad shook his head.
‘How bad is he?’
Dad shook his head again.
‘Worse’ was all he said.
‘How can he be worse? ‘ I said
‘Hes dead Bek. Hes gone. That lady just found his body and brought him home.’
It was like being hit by a train.
I ... I don't have enough of the right words... I am always so full of words but right now they abandon me. I don't cry proper, I'm not the kind of person who screams or shouts or explodes in any way. I’m very implosive kind of person which is largely to blame for the appearance of Myrtle. But its like those words held the power to make me suddenly combust and combust I did. Dad was choking out I'm sorry and I think he tried to hug me but all that existed was my boy, and me and this terrible, terrible sound.
If I could just get to him it would be okay. I could fix him. We'd get through this . We always did.
Mum was cradling him and I started noticing the world enough to realise the horrible screeching and wailing was coming from me. I felt like I was going to be sick and my vision tunnelled when I saw him there. I clung to him, he was still warm and soft, his eyes were wide open and it looked like he was awake. But it was wrong, he wasn’t awake. And I could hear myself unleashing that awful sound again. I called for him to come back. I couldn't stop myself. It's like I was watching from outside of me, watching me on the ground, rocking my lost boy, screaming. I remember being scared of me, from that weird disconnected vantage point. I remember shouting at Dad to 'Bring him back! Bless him! Bring him back!'. And then I started to pray and pray and pray. I could do it, I can bring him back. And I willed it over and over, because he looked so alive still, he was still warm, his heart couldn't have been stopped for very long, I was certain his life was still within my grasp and I willed every power I had to pull him back, to come back, and I was raving over and over 'bring him back, bring him back'. I was making bargains with Heavenly Father, "use my faith" I said. "GIVE HIM BACK".


Somewhere in the midst of everything crumbling, a loving small voice said he wasn’t supposed to come back. His time was up and he was where he needed to be. His work was over.
I was too far gone to do anything but scream back at it.
You killed him! You killed him! You took my boy from me!
And I was lost. I don't remember what happened, just that time must have passed because the colors were different when I came back and Myrtle was there to greet me.
She whispered that it was my fault. "If you had of tied him up or checked the fences more carefully, if you had of walked with him more, if you had got home sooner, if you had gotten him desexed sooner none of this would have happened. You killed him. You did this. He is dead because of you, you lazy selfish stupid..." and on she went.
And part of me still believes that. Part of me knows I could have prevented this had I been more diligent.
The other, larger part of me knows that most of this was out of my control and that Barma did this, he had something broken in him that no one could fix, and he made his choice and that no matter what Myrtle said to me, there was nothing I, or anyone could have done.
Fury held hands with my shocked grief and I was mad at the people who killed him and left him there to die on the road.
Eventually, my explosion turned inward and the agony raged inside instead of outside. That awful sound I was making stopped and everything went quiet. I stopped praying because I knew he was gone and HF wasn’t giving him back. I turned my back on heaven in my pain.
I lay beside Barma on the floor, just stroking his fur and smelling his smell and pretending like it was just us napping on a lazy Sunday afternoon. But I like to be doing things when I feel out of control. So I changed and got his things ready. I wrapped him in his blanket just as he started to go cold and we walked out through our sunny green yard to Chucks grave. Dad and Jonny had dug a hole next to Chuckie. I let Dad put him in the earth, because I knew I wouldn’t get back up again if I did it. I was floored. I was floating between feeling and not feeling, letting tears and stray sobs form in fits and bursts. I had no words, yet was so full of them but I had no energy or will to say them. We put him to rest with his favourite toys.
Part of me still wants to rush back up there because I swear he's still alive if I had just prayed harder or made Dad bless him he'd come back. I feel like I buried him alive, because he looked no different, just like sleeping, but his eyes were wide open. We couldn't close them.

Its been half an hour since then, but I just had to write. I had to do something because if I stop the grief is so overpowering. I've had loss before, and I know what its like. This isn’t new to me. Yet is is, because he was mine and I was his. He saved me and whenever I was blessed enough to imagine a future for myself he was in it. I imagined him being there at my wedding and I was halfway finished with making him a tux. (I liked to make him costumes because he was so damn cute). He would be an old dog once I had my own babies and he would watch over them. No matter where I tried to imagine myself he was always there. It was us against the world and I knew no matter where I would go in this life, if he was with me the darkness wouldn’t take me. My light in the darkness, the beacon in the storm.



That dog saved my life. In my darkest hour he was there to pull me back from the brink. He was who God put in place to stop me destroying myself because he knew me and knew that no person could. Barma loved me unconditionally, didn’t punish me for my mistakes and flaws. He didn't see me as different or sick or broken.
Barma came into our family before we were ready for him. We were mourning Chuckie still and he came too soon. He peed everywhere haha and was a source of both happiness and contention in my family. 


However, to me, he came at just the right time and I didn’t even know it. He was Leia’s dog, but she was still hurting too much from Chuckie's sudden departure and Barma was so different from Chuckie, alot more to handle for a little guy, and we didnt know what we were doing, didn't know about socialisation and that getting given him at such a young age was too soon to be away from his Mum and brothers and sisters. He developed terrible anxieties and 'cheeky' is a kind way to put some of his behaviours developed as a result of being taken from his family too soon. So his first few months of life were messed up and rocky. We didn't get along so well in the beginning, I was too messed up to do much of anything. Then he was hit by a car when he was four months old (trust me the irony of his death is not lost on me) accidentally by carelessness on our part and the carelessness of the driver in our driveway and he had a broken leg as a result. I remember coming home to everyone shouting at each other, I dont know where I was before that, but i remember coming home and just seeing him, his big eyes, wet from the rain, looking up at me and it was the first thing that kind of kicked me out of my head. Ive never spoken to my parents like that, I shouted at them in fact, telling them to stop going around in circles with blame and that Barma needed help. He needed an operation and his recovery took a while. Everyone had school and stuff except me, the insane one, so it was just me and him alot of the time after that. And that's where we made our bond. I'd sit by his basket while he lay there with his broken leg before and after surgery. And then he'd sit with me at sleep at my feet when I was up late painting.


I fixed the damaged that had been done to him in his heart and made him a better pet. At the same time he fixed me. He was always there and I felt braver and more wanted and needed than anywhere else when he was with me. When night terrors, panic attacks and insomnia hours plagued me he was always there when I woke up and he would soothe my fears and bring me back to reality. He was ever patient with my recovery. When Id want to hurt myself he'd get in my way so it was impossible to do so. I'd be mad in my pain at first but eventually I'd end up laughing at him and I don't know how many times he saved me.


Recently, we just taught him to dance. We would jump up and down around him and he'd hop up and down on his back legs and pump his front paws in the air. He was incredibly smart, smartest dog I've ever met. We never deserved him. He was even smarter than us at times.
The amount of adventures we had on the endless days I spent alone and sad kept me going. He was so full of light he kept mine burning.





I don’t know why this happened now. I don’t know why I wasn’t allowed to see him grow old as my life progressed and eventually give him back to HF after he'd lived a long and happy life. I don’t know why he was taken from me.
I don’t know what to do now in the days that will follow. I've lost a part of me that gave me so much life and now I feel like its been torn away and I'm in darkness still looking for him.
This is not fair. This is not okay.
I don’t know when it will, if ever, be okay. I don’t know how to let him go and move on from this.
This isn’t real.
This isn’t real.

Barma saved me. 
I don’t know how ... I don't know whats going to happen. Whats going to happen to me? Come back. I cant do this without him. My world has lost a light. I don’t know what to do. Give him back. He's my baby, my heart and soul, my rock. What am I without him?

I know hes running happily somewhere, with wind in his hair, and earth below his feet like he loves.
I just wish it were here.





All Shall Fade

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

2014 has rolled around.

I decided this year is the year Im going to take back my life, and I know its going to be really tough but Im excited all the same. 
Relapse, high, relapse, high, relapse, high. Cycle, cycle. 
Im excited for this New Year and all the possibilities it holds. I can do ANYTHING I WANT!! :D! I can BE whatever I want!!  - Me, February 2013

I...
I tried. I tried really really hard. I did my best.

'not good enough'
'you didnt try hard enough.'
'youre pathetic'

2013, I took up school again. I studied a Bachelor of Modern Languages. This decision was based on 'i liked languages once. i bet this is the path for me. Lets be a linguist'.
The first semester comes and goes. Pressure for assignments mount.

'youre not working hard enough'
'why aren't you studying. its not that hard, this is easy to understand, why don't you get it like everyone else?'
'stupid lazy girl, GET. UP.'

words mash together and distort on the page. i cannot focus on sentences.
so i use flash cards.

memory memory, 
why don't you remember?
its easy, so easy, the people you practice with remember, why don't you?
what the hell is wrong with you?

the first exam goes by. i turn up 3 days early for it, because i mixed up the days.
When i finally get through it on the right day and get my results- all my hard work boiled down to 52/100. I passed by 2 points. My lowest academic score ever.

Second semester. I struggle. I fail. I'm forced to drop out.

'pathetic'
'you never finish what you start'
'you're a nobody again, you're nothing'
'you're a dead-end kind of person'
'worthless'
'failure'

So i try to get into the work force. But nobody wants a 21 year old with no qualifications or experience. The rejection letters and emails pile up.

'you're terrible at this.'
'nobody wants you'
'good for nothing'
'why are you even applying for that job? you'll never get it'
'see? just give up'
'end it. now.'
'you're a disappointment'

Suddenly, its 'HAPPY NEW YEAR!'. Everyone reflects. The patches of memory i can recall are only a string of failures.

Surely there's more than that? 
Surely something more happened. I know something did... i know it did... 
why isn't it there? 

the thing is... with time everything fades.
my daily battle is my memory.
i wake up tired. i put on all the weight i lost in 2013 and then some.
i dont dream. i have no ideas.
i dont feel. Social interactions is this constant exhausting dialog in my head.

'oh shes telling me shes engaged. thats good news so smile'
'now shes talking about trouble with wedding organising. bad. quick, frown and nod in agreement'
'the baby is doing something, quick copy the 'awws''
'they got ripped off at the store, i should be angry, act appropriately outraged'

I struggle to feel anything apart from the bad stuff. its either nothing or extreme sadness, extreme elation or extreme anger.
Im getting good at normalcy though-well i think i am. I know im getting better despite everything.

I also know people are dying. I know war is happening, famine and much worse things than what im going through.
It doesnt change how i feel though. It doesnt change that this... thing... in my brain is the hardest and most crippling thing ive ever faced.

im so sad. im so so so sad.

i guess im still mourning the loss of my future i worked so hard for. I am guilty of asking 'why? why now? why did you do this to me. I did everything right, i did what you asked me to do. why, why did you take what was so precious to me away? why freeze me in this hell while everyone else gets blessed and moves on with their lives?! this isnt fair, why are you punishing me so.. what did i do...'

I am at war within myself.

The good things I have keep me alive. I have a dog, who gives me purpose when the dark doesn't consume. I have a family, who i know loves me, (though i feel nothing as a result of this weird no feelings thing, everything is logical conclusions) and a calling which brings me points of light in grey and shapeless days. I'm grateful my body is getting stronger despite still being so tired and weak, I'm definately stronger and I can go for longer and longer each time.

But this is the pits.

I don't have anything to say most of the time to people so i've been working on trying to figure out how to small talk and well.. talk... again. Its so hard to say what you mean though, i mess up my words a lot.
I still don't know what is real and what is not. Like people judging me and other anxieties- i don't know whats just in my head and what is real. At the same time as me wanting to be remembered and included and not left behind as everyone moves on with their lives- i simultaneously want no one to talk to me or come near me. hugs? skype chats? out of the question.

I guess its fair to say i'm a pretty messed up piece of crap and a pretty terrible human being right now.

Im getting better though. with no hope on my horizons, its my small miracle that I'm getting better at all.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Amoung New Years resoultions such as: more excercise, lose weight, and doing that thing that I never do every year I promise to do it...  I made a seemingly simple resolution that Im quite proud to have accomplished.

Yes.
I am going to write an entire blog post on the sole act of reading a novel.

Depression takes alot from you and also, strangely, gives back to you in weird unrecognizable ways. Like all trials do I guess.

I used to LOVE to read. Id chew up books like Id eat dinner after a fast Sunday! I loved all stories and words. I thought some of the most beautiful things Id ever see in this world came from the images conjoured up from the pages of a book. I even seriously considered becoming a Librarian at one point :).

But depression took away some very core parts of me. Amoung casualties are that journal writing doesnt happen anymore. Drawing/painting things just for me, not for someone else, doesnt happen anymore. And reading for pleasure doesnt happen anymore.

They tell me it will all come back in time and that my brain is still recovering and re-activating and my body is still correcting all the imbalances but as Ive said before, Im VERY impatient. And I feel like Im some kind of war veteran with missing limbs you know?? Its weird living without these parts of me that brought me so much joy in the past.
Ive tried to do it all again, to read, to paint for myself and to write in my journal. All can be started...but its like beating my head against a brick wall!! And its frustrating!!! It came so easily to me before, it was as easy as breathing but now its like... Im trying to pull a massive boulder up a mountain!!

Relapse, high, relapse, high, relapse, high. Cycle, cycle.

In highs, I attempt to reclaim what Ive lost. In the relapses... I WANT to so badly, I want to create, I want to achieve... but forming sentences to explain how I feel or trying to remember what I had for breakfast is like a stuttery mess. Mind just goes bonkers and nothing looks normal and the world is my enemy.

Im on a high right now, and I hope this one lasts :). Im excited for this New Year and all the possibilities it holds. I can do ANYTHING I WANT!! :D! I can BE whatever I want!! 
I decided this year is the year Im going to take back my life, and I know its going to be really tough but Im excited all the same.
While Im feeling good and thinking straight, Ive applied for Uni in studying French and Film and Media :). Im really excited about this. Its going to be really hard but Ive decided to love and cherish every minute of it. 
And.... Back to the subject.... :P

Ive begun to reclaim my ability to read and focus and remember what Im reading!!!

I read this book. And it was amazing. 


Even though it was slow-going and I had to re-read almost every paragrah a few times before I could focus on the words and remember... It felt really good to achieve a New Years resolution and to do something that I used to love so much!!

And far out, I never stopped loving reading!! :D

I bet this is just the beginnng, that its just going to be hard for a while but once I get back into it Ill think straighter and focus better and Im REALLY excited about that!!!

2013 will be beautiful. I just know it.

*speechless*

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

POSSIBLY
One of the best things I've ever experienced...






Amazing.

Hot chocolate... ON A STICK.

*faints*


Ah yes... About that project...

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Procrastination.
Im hilariously inflicted.
On that note,
Here I am sharing a video blog I finished editing...
....nearly two years later than when it was first created...
...
:/

My First Week in Adelaide :)


There is Wisdom in Writing...

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Today is a good day.
I feel pretty great today.
Whether that is attributed to the weather, the excercise, the meds... I dont know. I am just ...really grateful and alive today.
I feel very awake, and as a result of that I've been making the most of it. Sitting in the sun, playing piano and guitar, reading scriptures and books without losing my focus- far out I have missed focus!!
Today I can focus and today I am hopeful.
Today I felt like I had to read and write.
Journal writing has always been important to me since the age of 11. I think I loved it so much because it was a place I could vent, a place I could preserve memories and a place I could always go to for laughs at things I used to do and to marvel at how much I had grown.
I stopped writing my journal last year. I'm sad and glad about it, I dont particularly want to remember or record the last few months. But on that note, today I decided to read my own blog.
You might remember this post: Dear Self.
Im so glad I wrote it when I did.
Ive forgotten my own advice and the person who wrote it.
I feel very blessed, happy and just... hopeful I guess. I remember how I felt when I wrote it. I havent felt like that in a very long time.
Its just proven to me how very wise the counsel to keep a journal is.
You might remember this talk from a few years ago (actually, this is five years old- WOAH time passes so fast!!) and if you do not, watch this:


Remember. Learn. Gratitude.
That's what journals are for. I've gone on to read my old journals- specifically, the times Ive recorded my own testimony and times where I've recognised the Lords hand in my life (it took a while as ALOT of my journals are full of  the crushes on boys I've had and teenage dramas *face palm* LOL ).
These dark days are long. But they become brighter, clearer and hopeful when I can look back and see things with hindsight. Its crazy the things I've learnt, the things I'd forgot and the perspectives I used to have. Keeping a record of my days not only benefits myself, but in turn benefits the people Ill meet in days to come.
I think this is one of the very few times in life where looking back benefits your path forward.
We all seem to have a fascination with the past, our own world history because we want to learn from our past. Why not take that into your daily life- make a record of yourself, your feelings, beliefs, mistakes and successes. Learn from your own history.

Today is a good day, Im grateful for the words I have written in the past- it helps me be optimistic about the future.
Also, it's the first day of spring today.
If realizing that winter is over is something that doesn't make me cheery I don't know what is! :)

A Long Road...

Thursday, August 30, 2012

It's always difficult to catch up.
I'm going to attempt to catch you up on what's happened, but so much has happened I don't know where or how to start. 
I find it very difficult to express myself, to explain how I feel or what I think, I just hope everyday that someone will understand what I'm trying to say...

Apologies in advance for being overly wordy!

I'm going to tell you a story... where the ending isn't decided yet.

April this year, I was diagnosed with severe Depression.


About Depression:
'Depression is more than just a low mood - it's a serious illness. While we all feel sad, moody or low from time to time, some people experience these feelings intensely, for long periods of time and often without reason. People with depression find it hard to function every day and may be reluctant to participate in activities they once enjoyed.'

You know, Depression is way more common than I think any of us realize. In my world, Depression is prevalent throughout my extended and immediate family, making the chances of myself suffering from it higher than usual. But as many as one in five people will suffer from depression at some point in their lives. That's a crazy amount of people!! Many people are un-diagnosed for depression, and I hate to think what kind of life they must lead. Some people very close to me suffered un-diagnosed from depression for years, and those days are hard to remember for both them and anyone who was around them. Depression can happen to anyone of any age, including children!
Because of that, I think its incredibly important to really notice each other, really take time to check on the people around you. No one should have to go through it alone.

'If you notice any behavioural changes that last for more than two weeks in yourself, family members or friends, then it is worth asking if the person may be depressed.

Common behaviour associated with depression includes:
  • moodiness that is out of character
  • finding it hard to take minor personal criticisms
  • spending less time with friends and family
  • loss of interest in food, exercise or other pleasurable activities
  • being awake throughout the night
  • difficulty concentrating
  • staying home from work or school
  • increased physical health complaints like fatigue or pain
  • being reckless or taking unnecessary risks (e.g. driving fast or dangerously)
  • slowing down of thoughts and actions.'

This is all just copied from beyondblue.org.au but there are tonnes of other sites with information. For my purposes I'm just going to talk about the aspects of depression that have affected me.

Being around people with depression:
Its hard to understand what depression is and how it feels unless you've experienced it yourself. I used to think I understood, because I read a pamphlet or talked to someone who had it. I thought it was something you could get over quickly if you stuck to the gospel and looked for the positive things in life... kind of with the attitude of 'why don't they just suck it up and stop making excuses. Their happiness is THEIR choice, they're just making a big deal of nothing'. 
Really, I had no idea. Because of that, I did feel frustrated with friends who just refused to see the sunshine that was so clearly shining on them and was angry with family members that suffered because I thought they were being dramatic, just attention-seeking. I mean really, how could you hurt the people you loved just to have your melt-down and destroy things like that? How can you NOT know whats happening and be unable control yourself? Its just something they made up in their head, as an excuse to be lazy or to act selfishly. 
Don't get me wrong, I wasn't entirely ruthless and unforgiving like that, that was just how it felt after it had dragged on. I like to think that I have a lot of compassion for people, and really mourned with those who mourned, but the truth is that wore incredibly thin when their 'illness' started hurting other people constantly. 
Depression is a silent war, hidden from sight.
I felt incredible sadness for them, prayed for them incessantly, listened where I could and tried my best to understand. But my patience always ran out after a few months and Id feel frustrated that they hadn't 'gotten better' by then. My frustration came from misunderstanding. I cannot say, that how I acted around people who suffered was very good. Knowing what I know now, Ive definitely been face-palming when I remember what I did.  

beyondblue has a list of things to do when around someone with depression:
'It's not always easy to help someone who may be experiencing depression. It can be hard to know what to say or do. Below are some tips.
  • Talk to the person about how they're feeling.
  • Listen to what the person says - sometimes, when a person wants to talk, they're not always seeking advice, but just need to talk about their concerns.
  • Maintain eye contact and sit in a relaxed position - positive body language will help both people feel more comfortable.
  • Use open-ended questions such as "So tell me about...?" which require more than a 'yes' or 'no' answer. This is often a good way to start a conversation.
  • If conversation becomes difficult or if the person with depression gets angry, stay calm, be firm, fair and consistent and don't lose control.
  • Often, just spending time with the person lets them know someone cares and understands them.
  • Encourage the person to seek professional help from their family doctor or a mental health worker.
  • Take care of yourself. Supporting someone with depression can be demanding. Family and friends should take 'time out' to look after themselves.

Later in this post, Ill describe which actions from other people have helped and what hasn't, but if you want to skip to it, scroll down to 'My Road to Recovery: Whats helped, What Hasn't.'

Realizing I was depressed:
From what I understand from other people's experiences, every persons depression is different. One persons battle isn't the same as the next though we suffer from the same mental illness.
Some depression sufferers have had it their entire lives- its a genetically passed on chemical in-balance in their brain, where as some, like me... their depression bouts are purely circumstantial.

This is my attempt at expressing myself. Fail.
I tried to depict the chaos behind my eyes.
Though I was diagnosed in April, Id been feeling terrible for about 6 months before that and looking back, it's difficult to pin-point where the depression started, but if I had to place the beginning Id say about the middle of 2011. For those who knew me before then, they'd always tell me that I was 'the happiest person they knew', they 'could never imagine me angry' and that I was 'always so bright and bubbly and nice to everyone'. If you've been reading this blog, you can kind of see I was fairly optimistic, and you can see the tone of my blog posts decline from being positive to just pitiful.
For me, I began noticing I was having trouble with my energy levels. I was exhausted. Id come home from a day at Uni and fall into bed and wake up late for my class the next day and even then I'd fall asleep during my lectures. No amount of sleep was every enough and eventually I couldn't sleep anymore and my sleeping habits bordered on insomnia.
Then it started to become harder and harder to focus on what was being taught, if I wasn't falling asleep Id be kind of restless, fidgety and agitated and I couldn't keep up. Its like when you read a book when you're tired and suddenly you realize you've re-read the same sentence 20 times and you still don't know what it said- imagine that happening in real life when people are talking to you. It was like a fog had descended on my brain, slowing everything down and made learning feel like I was wading through tar with rocks tied to my feet. I kept getting further and further behind and when I tried to study on my own, the same restlessness and unfocused mindset was prevalent so Id give up in frustration. I'd complain to my friends that I was 'stupid' and that I was 'actually dumber than I used to be' and I couldn't understand why I wasn't learning like I always had.
Even the little things I fought hard to learn against the fog in my head, I found I couldn't remember. My short term memory was largely affected and Ive found even my long term memory has been affected too. It was hard to remember what I had done the day before or remember something important a friend or loved one had confided in me. They'd get hurt by my forgetfulness, thinking I never listened to them.
Eventually, my attendance at University became the bare minimum as I found that I studied better outside (luckily all my courses were posted online) and felt incredibly panicked and claustrophobic in doors so when exams rolled around, I ended up failing two and barely passing the others. This threw me into low spirits, which eventually morphed into a kind of 'dont care' negative attitude.
During this time, I lost interest in what I was studying, but I thought that was because I was just changing my mind about the future Ive wanted my entire life. But not only did I lose interest in Uni, I lost interest in other things I loved to do- I stopped singing and writing music, I stopped reading books, I stopped exercising and painting. It was so hard to do any of them, I hated doing them in the end.
I also put on 20kgs in a year, which was attributed to not eating for a while and then suddenly scarfing down noodles or fast food. I'd get sick with worry over tiny things, issues with friends, my relationship, money or family and not eat anything or throw up. My body went into starvation mode.
Little trials became big, and Big trials became unbearable.
I hated waking up everyday. Most days I woke up and wished I didn't, wishing I had died in my sleep. The days were always so dark, the only things I looked forward to was seeing my boyfriend and friends. Even then, I didn't even want to do that much, I just did it to please them sometimes. I knew I loved my friends and family dearly but I was just so exhausted some days that I was too tired to even talk. It was hard to explain to them why I was so tired and drained- I didn't even know why myself. I hated that I was hurting them and making them unhappy almost more than I hated myself. But whenever I tried to keep them happy and still be around them I destroyed myself.

I don't even know what to say about this.
I painted this trying to release some of the darkness
that had invaded- like a virus. So
I guess that's what I was trying to paint?
There was this constant war inside me, a trembling seismic earth quake in every cell of my body, in my head. This is the hardest to explain. I was always uneasy and felt so out of control and sick to my core. My head was spiraling- worse than spiraling- like every thought, every memory I ever had suddenly decided to abandon ship in the middle of a blackout and got stuck continually colliding, breaking against each other in the dark chaos of escape. This is constant. This is inescapable. Made dying seem like the only option for peace sometimes. In those times of hopelessness I made sure I called someone or something- The desire to not disappoint my family, friends and Heavenly Father was what saved my life some days. 
I had two church callings that I used to look forward to that became terrible burdens though they were relatively simple. I remember trying to talk to my Bishop about it, but I came out of it with another task from him and feeling like I hadn't been heard. Wasn't his fault though, it was my incapability of expressing the growing darkness in my head and my heart.

I'm a fairly prideful person in that its difficult for me to accept help and I hate it if anyone treats me as someone incapable. So throughout my mental deterioration, all my energy was spent keeping up a good facade for my friends and family. To me, I was just lazy and weak and I had to try harder. I was increasingly angry with myself because I physically and mentally couldn't serve others hardly at all anymore and this reduced me into breaking down and having frequent panic attacks. Secretly I was desperately wishing someone would notice and take the weight off my back... but the desire to be reliable and strong in others eyes was much stronger than my silent pleas for help. I didn't want anyone to see what was happening to me and I guess I was afraid if I said anything, it would make it real. I was in denial I guess. I still struggle with not wasting energy on trying to act like I'm doing way better than I am, and sometimes people believe it. So when it matters, I find it difficult to be honest in saying the truth of how bad it really is... I just have this need to put on a show and hide the truth. This blog post is kind of another attempt at saying things how they actually are and not sugar-coating anything.
Trying to explain what I was feeling to my friends and family was the hardest thing in the world, when my head wasn't sluggish and in a fog, it was like a TV that only plays white noise. I couldn't explain most of the time why I reacted the way I did and why I was incredibly over-sensitive. I didn't realize what I was doing until after the craziness was over and Id punish myself, asking 'why did i do that? Why is it such a big deal? Why did i say that, that's so silly!?'. Whenever I was alone I'd freak out and break down wondering what was wrong with me and hating myself for who I was. I started hurting people around me un-intentionally because I was so unstable, and  any energy that I had left after hauling myself out of bed everyday, I spent on pretending to be happy so I wouldn't hurt anyone. You cant hide it forever though, the cracks will start showing and people WILL notice. I did talk with my closest friend (who also shares my name) Bekah about how I felt and we talked about the probability that I might be depressed but I guess I just found it difficult to accept that that's was the reason behind all these changes in me. I talked with my boyfriend about it a little, but I felt I had to keep up the happy show for him the most because he reacted the worst to how unhappy I had become. He ended up breaking up with me anyway because I was so all over the place all the time, I didn't talk to him and I wouldn't accept his answers to all my problems. I was incapable of explaining to him what was happening with me, even after being diagnosed. He'd get frustrated and angry because he didn't understand me... But I didn't understand myself. I didn't need him to give me answers, I needed him to just listen and just BE there. In my opinion, I think being in a relationship is either the best thing or the worst thing for you if you are depressed. The effect of your partner on your recovery is HUGE because they matter so much to you emotionally and depression so largely affects your emotions. In my case, being in a relationship was the worst thing for me. I hurt him alot, I made him mad alot and I became a problem in his life rather than a blessing. I'm sensitive to conflict and we were always in conflict. I loved him but that's just not enough when you lose yourself in the wake of a mental illness.

http://jessbradbury.blogspot.com.au/2011/12/sharing-something-personal.html
My sister is a phenomenal artist, I love this self portrait she did, check it out: http://jessbradbury.blogspot.com.au/2011/12/sharing-something-personal.html

Throughout my life I've always been able to see a light at the end of the tunnel despite how bad the trial I was going through was right then. I always had hope that it'd be alright in the the end, and though Id cry a little and have a typical whinge from time to time- I was optimistic. My days were happy. So its difficult to understand why it only took all these little trails to take my hope away.
I think that's probably one of the worst parts of it, that for the very first time in my life I have no hope. I cant see the light at the end of the tunnel. When I'm asked what I want to do or where I imagine I'll be in 5, 10, 20 years... I cant tell them. Because I literally can't see... I try to imagine and its like... where there is supposed to be a dark tunnel ... instead there is a consuming endless wall in my way... I cant imagine what will be tomorrow, in a week, in a month even.

In early March, after my friends snapping at me, telling me to get help, I finally tried to for their sake. It took five goes to actually work up the courage to sit in the doctors waiting room alone and trembling, waiting for my name to be called so I could tell a qualified stranger that I felt I was depressed.
That moment, thus far, was the single most terrifying moment of my life. I don't know why I felt the way I did, but I was utterly terrified. I could barely choke out the words, I couldn't breathe, I felt claustrophobic and my heart rate sky-rocketed. I was entirely alone and I was terrified because I didn't have control or the strength to alone finally face the monster in my head by telling someone about it. I realise how incredibly blessed I am in that somehow I got  through it.
But I came out of the doctors that day with a test to do, which took another month before I worked up enough courage to return it on my own.
Finally. April 2012, I was diagnosed with severe depression.

The Science Behind the Symptoms of Depression:
Alot of the reason behind my panic attacks, though I realize triggers for panic attacks vary between each person, was that I had no control and didn't understand what was happening to me. Its a truly terrifying thing, to lose your mind so completely that your body loses its control and you are lost in an out of control limbo for the duration of an attack. Something that I've noticed in my conversations with people who are experiencing what I'm experiencing, is that none of them know the actual science behind the symptoms they suffer from. Why is this so?! I think its been phenomenal in helping me on my road to recovery, to actually know whats happening to me.
Its been very difficult to find the why in actual articles and reputed sources, as Depression is still in the midst of on-going research but I'll share what I have found as well as what Ive been told.
My psychologist has been fantastic in explaining things. She has explained to me what actually happens to the brain when depression sets in. The brain's activity is dramatically reduced- A person with depression can lose up to 20 IQ points, (from being an A+ student to almost mentally disabled). Only parts of your brain functions- the parts that keeps you alive.
This also explains why you cannot remember things very well and find it difficult to express yourself in an understandable way- and pretty much why you can't function anymore and why your capacity to handle living is next to zero.
When I went to the Doctors the first time, I was kind of brushed aside with some prescribed 'happy pills'. Drugs didn't really make any difference to me, if anything they made life worse. I didn't have lows, but I didn't have highs either. I was suspended in time, not feeling anything or progressing at all. It was like any capacity I had to feel anything had flat lined. I was numb.
Apparently, I was on the wrong drug dose according to my doctor, but regardless, I hated the drugs and got off them as soon as I could. However, the antidepressants are supposed to give you a head space- help to reactivate your brain. Probably the best sort of lay mans explanation for the effects of anti-depressants is found here.
I was given a blood test when I first came home, being tested for hypothyroidism and any deficiencies in my blood that attributes to depression and being chronically fatigued. 
Something my doctor also explained to me was that the reason all these things were happening in my body was because I'd undergone a 'stress-induced change in my thinking patterns and in my biochemistry.' My body was just doing whatever it could to protect itself from the stress I was inflicting.
There are loads more symptoms that are experienced in depression but, Ive only talked about the few big ones that have affected me. 
Ask your doctor/psychologist about whats actually happening to you or a person you know who is depressed. It does wonders for your understanding.


My Road to Recovery: What's Helped, What Hasn't.
There are good days and bad days. Good days I feel almost normal, I can laugh easier, I have motivation and I want to talk. Bad days are - well- Bad days. I don't remember those days well. I cant function properly. I hate noise, talking and moving from my bed. I don't want to be awake- The fog turns to tar and I'm lost... I've figured out ways to battle and function on bad days- but I'm a really mean, exhausted and negative person to be around. My bad days are becoming fewer and farther in between, less severe as time drags on which I'm grateful for.
Its taken me about a month or more to finish this blog post, using whatever energy I have on good days to write. I can express myself alot better than a few months ago, and alot better than most persons I know who are depressed, so I thought Id fight the fog to write this out. Its important to me.
I don't even know where to start here. But I'll do my best.
The Sun. Getting outside and being in nature with the sun out is like... Superman recovering from kryptonite (For all you nerds out there!). Its one of the few things that revives motivation in me.
Exercise. I used to love to run, and that's something that having the chronic fatigue side of depression has taken from me. When I can run, its going to be a good day that day. Something about getting my heartbeat up and feeling the wind on my face just revives my faith in the beauty of life.
Taking magnesium, potassium and vitamin D supplements has helped the fatigue alot and just changing my eating habits. Ive started a new diet to fix my sudden weight gain and that is pretty much very basic healthy eating- greens, vegetables and good meats like chicken, fish and non-marbled beef. Its improved more than just my weight and fatigue- its cleared my skin, made me feel less sluggish and started repairing the damage I inflicted on my body last year.
Its been recommended to me to go back on the antidepressants, and though they did not help me before, I'm at the point now where I really don't care what they do- I'm tired of being so out of control. So I'm still undecided about that- time will tell.
Things that have really benefited me has alot to do with my faith and trust in the Lord.
Ive had healing blessings that gave me the ability to sleep again. Its become much easier to fight to get well now I can rest.
Also, reading my patriarchal blessing has given me a few rays of hope. I cannot see or hope for my own future in the wake of this- the first time in my life this is so. That really stresses me out and brings me down, not knowing what I'm even working for or where I'm going. But reading my PB has given me faith that even though I cannot see whats going to happen tomorrow, a month or a few years from now, at least the Lord knows and if I can remember that I'm not so frightened or concerned about moving in this direction or that.
Being around animals helps alot too. I'm not going to lie, people exhaust me and Ive not figured out why just yet. I can laugh to myself sometimes- I now think that those crazy cat ladies are living the good life!! ;) ha ha.
When I paint, Barma sleeps in a storage box at my feet- too cute!

Animal's unconditional love is soothing and consistent.
This little guy- He's a ratbag but Barma thinks I'm great no matter my mood.
I find that I feel best around people who don't expect anything from me. I know its probably in my head, but i  have this incessant need to have to help people, to just please them without really acknowledging the expense that takes from me. There are very few people that I feel I don't have to work so hard around, but that's one of my issues I guess... Animals however are very pure, like small children, they don't demand more than they need and so its easy and uplifting to be around them.
Seeing a Psychologist. I was REALLY reluctant and scared to go to the psychologist. I felt even more defeated than usual, like I couldn't fix myself therefore, I was weak. I fought with my doctor and other peoples recommendations about going, insisting I didn't need it. But I'm so glad I finally bit the bullet and went. Its been such a relief to just... let some things out and be confident in the fact that she's going to know how to help me get through the mess of my thoughts to a solution. Psychologists are phenomenal.
Listening to General Conference- okay, so this is a weird one. Its not what they are speaking about really- Sometimes I can focus on what they are actually talking about -but mostly I just like how it makes me feel. The sound of their voices is one of the most comforting sounds... I had a huge panic attack at church one day and when I got home all I wanted was to hear them, not listen to them, just hear them and it calmed me down and cleared my head and made it possible for me to sleep again.

The things that Ill mention that haven't helped- I'm dreadfully sorry if they come across a bit rant-ish.
Time Pressure: So, I was told not to put a time limit on me getting better (which I did of course but it was obvious I wouldn't live up to any goals I put on myself- they were always unrealistic) but after getting over not putting a limit on myself, I had other people putting limits on me. People affect me hugely and it destroys me having their disappointment at my progress hovering over my head whenever I speak to them. I ended up deleting my Facebook account to escape every ones demands on me, which is a drastic reaction but I'm absolutely loving being off the radar.
Which brings me to Social Networking and Media, both these things MASSIVELY affect my mental state. Having Facebook made me feel horrible. I dreaded having to go on there- just because I'm frustrated with people hurting each other and being so petty and vain- it infuriated me. It was also a source of pressure for me, pressure and drama from friends and family that I just can't deal with anymore. I only kept it to please extended family and friends, so they could keep tabs on me. I've gotten rid of it and honestly, I don't miss it. I figured the people that matter will call or write. The movies and music I listen to also has a big effect. More so, the music. On bad days, I can't listen to any kind of music. On good days, listening to slow, sad tunes can turn that day into a bad one. I absolutely love the song 'Banana Pancakes' by Jack Johnson. It used to be my alarm in high school and college and now whenever I feel dreadful, I listen to that and it just makes me feel better and chirpy.
Being told to 'Be happy'. When people find out you are depressed, I can understand why their natural reaction would be to tell me to 'be happy'. But this is me telling you now (and i know I'm not the only one who feels this way) - Its the most useless and idiotic thing you could ever say to a person who is depressed. If just suddenly deciding to 'Be happy' was an option, don't you think we'd do it?! What are we working for EVERYDAY? Why do we still live?? Why do you think we are popping happy pills?? Its the silliest thing in the world to try and shove 'life is beautiful' 'be positive' and things like that down my throat! Seriously, it actually makes me feel more despondent and frustrated whenever I hear that... because I'm tired of feeling like this. I'm so so tired. Its just an unnecessary reminder that I'm NOT happy. I'm sure people mean well, and I know that's how they perceive life- but its honestly the stupidest thing. Posting 'Dont worry, Be happy' videos and 'be present, life is beautiful, Life is a hard journey, but its worth it' pictures or quotes on Facebook or emails- Emails I just delete.  I only 'like' the posts on Facebook to acknowledge I've seen them. But the truth is I hate them. They make me feel terrible. I'm oversensitive about the time slipping away. Those 'be happy' messages just make me feel like I'm doing something wrong because I'm not okay. I'm not happy. What helps me is the encouraging and supportive messages like 'I'm here for you. I think you're worth it.' 'This wont last forever' 'You'll be okay again someday Bek' and just listening. That's what helps- No matter how many 'be positive' emails you send me or how many times you give me a 'be happy' speech is not going to change my situation or benefit me in any way. From what I've learnt so far, my recovery and being happy again is something Ill find at my own pace. Not someone else's.
I used to draw cartoons when I was restless in a church
meeting or something to help focus my mind. I tried it to
express myself again- This is... well... You decide.
Over-exposure to people. Being around people too much triggers bad days and down periods for me. I lose control whenever I spend more than a few hours around them. The panic sets in and Ill exhaust myself trying to prevent a panic attack from taking over. A few hours is fine but any more than that and Ill suffer from severe bad days they last from a few days to a few weeks.
I think its because I'm so sensitive to peoples feelings now. Especially negative ones. I cannot stand selfishness and cruelty. Conflict and violence triggers panic attacks. I'm angry and hurt when people are sad or suffering. I hate gossipers and those people who have to make other people feel small so they can feel better about themselves. I can't stand bullies. I can't stand those people that judge so easily and accept so little. I hate seeing people suffer- especially at the hands of someone else. Sadly, all these are incredibly common among people -its common human frailty- and I don't know how to deal with how I feel about that now. Its one of the biggest and very basic things about me that has changed now. People aren't the beautiful, creative and kind beings I thought they always were. I see them for what they are- their failings and trespasses against each other. I'm disgusted at what I see now. But I'm slowly relearning to look at them with understanding and accepting that they are going to hurt each other no matter what but they will still do lovely kind things sometimes.... but its difficult to deal with going from seeing the best to the worst. I don't know how to balance it.
Pushing myself too hard. The reason I'm like this is because ontop of overwhelming circumstances- I pushed it too hard and bit off more than I could chew!! Now I still try to take on things before I'm ready. I decided I was ready to get back into the social scene, thinking Id be okay. I attended a YSA activity that went for a whole day and that proved to just entirely waste me and caused me to be thrown into a downer -made me go backwards rather than forwards- along with one of the biggest panic attacks Ive ever experienced. So I'm more careful now as to what I can and cant handle.

A Long Road...
That's all I can say right now- which is ALOT. Congratulations for reading all the way down to this point! Ask me anything- If i see you or if you hear from me in any way - means the day is still good. You wont see me or hear from me on bad days. Its stressful to talk about- I tremble alot, but I like to talk about it, it relieves pressure. Though I find it very awkward to tell people whats happening with me now because well, nothing is happening apart from this depression and trying new things to enjoy life like painting projects, online stores and volunteer work at animal organisations and stables. I don't know what to say- I'm a very bluntly honest kind of person unfortunately and I struggle with hiding the truth from people I like (which is like 90% of people despite my disgust at people lowering that number), so I'm sorry if I've blurted it out awkwardly to you. I really just don't know what to say because people usually react negatively to you if you just tell them straight up whats really going on- like Depression is a contagious disease and you're spreading it. I'm truly grateful to the people who don't treat me differently. It makes socialising easier and less exhausting.
I'm still recovering. I'm getting better everyday. Fighting my demons one at a time. I'm exercising, I'm taking meds again and I don't know when Ill be okay again. I don't know who I'm going to be at the end of this. But I know now- well I HOPE now- that there will be an ending. That's progress. And I'm so grateful for just that little bit of hope. Its hard to accept that this isn't a short term thing. I'm so impatient at times and that seems to have intensified in that I get really frustrated that I'm not well by now. I'm angry alot- at my situation, at my actions, at my progress. But there is progress, though it may be slow...
Its a long road indeed.
A very long road...
 
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