I' m going to go back some now, back to when I was at my most end it all a few years back. When I had fell on black days. Or black day. That day is detailed somewhat in a post from around late Feb 2014. The below is something that details what kept me safe and I submitted it to The Mighty. It wasn't used but hey-ho.
Here it is for all two of you to read :)
The day had started off well enough and with good intentions
but by the end of it I was struggling to stay safe. I was out of bed early as I’d
had plans for a long day. Starting with breakfast it was then going to be out
to the gym and then lectures. It had started off well with the getting up early
but ended there. This much became clear as I ate my way through breakfast and
found that I was worn and tired despite the sleep that I had had. I kept
looking at the clock putting off leaving, knowing that a workout was going to be
beyond me. In fact, I was starting to realise everything that day would be
beyond me that day. As I did so anxiety began to rouse itself and I realised
that I wasn’t going anywhere. When I realised that I would have to let my
Tutors know the anxiety began to bubble up. It quickly let me know what a let
down I was being and got me wondering what would they all think of me, would it
mean the end of my course because of me letting people down, what would I say
to them when I eventfully saw them again? on and on it went. It was the only
time I didn’t feel tired, the anxiety pushing through the listlessness to
torment me. So, back to bed I went feeling empty and a complete let down.
Anxiety and depression would be my only bedfellows that day and that always
meant I would in a dangerous state. Dangerous to myself because when inhabiting
this mentality I feel trapped with no visible escape. It consumes me,
convincing me that it will always be this way, stuck in bed, useless to myself,
useless to anyone and shouldn’t I really just…. Well, you get the point.
Text sent, phone off and me in bed, eating little and drifting
in and out of an uncomfortable slumber feeling unable to even stare at the tv I
felt that bad. So I did what I could only do and had done before when feeling
internally destructive and worn. Put on my earphones and plugged in to music.
Music has been the soundtrack to my life and it’s subsequent activities. It has
helped me sleep, it has helped me exercise and, around that time, it had
soothed when I was feeling horrible. When the noise of everyday life and my
mental conditions get the better of me music keeps helps shut it out, whether
it be the joyous melodies of the Dropkick Murphys and Abba or the loud abrasive
growls of Amon Amarth and/or the atmospheric soundtracks of Nine Inch Nails.
One album though reached out to me that day. The Manic Street Preachers, This
is my Truth Tell Me Yours, was an album that I felt connected to.
I had really gotten
into it (by really gotten into it I mean listening to it everyday and feeling
kinda empty if I didn’t) about a year earlier and as I did each song would open
itself up to me and I would feel directly plugged into its mood and meaning. The
lyrics seemed to grasp what it meant to have depression, taking medication and
well, my current mood and mental illness in general. Songs about the black dog,
lyrics mentioning not working as a person, drifting away, feeling tender and tired
it was the only soundtrack for me that day as I tried desperately to keep
suicidal thoughts from overtaking and overwhelming me.
As I kept the album on
rotation that day it worked. It kept me distracted and made me feel as though I
had a comforting partner who got exactly what I was going through. It was
enough to keep me safe. Not long after that I was back at the Doctors but for
that time, that day that I was in a deep depressive funk that music was like
cool glass of water to a dried out sponge. It was an aural comfort blanket that
kept me calm and safe and I’ll always be thankfully to the band for that even
though they will never know.
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