I find it hard to live sometimes. I can make myself forget how hard it is by watching comedy and by and endless array of books and television as I numb the brain but as soon as I put it down and curl into a ball in my bed, all I can feel is a sense of helplessness.

For the last few years I’ve struggled a lot with depression, with ideas of self harm, with ideas of suicide, with disillusionment.

As a logical rational person, I know that in many ways these thought patterns have no basis in reality and is a cumulative result of residual psychological issues and unresolved emotions. In some ways I feel like a fraud because I don’t feel like I’m a true ‘victim’ of psychological trauma – I’ve never been raped, I’ve never been subjected to real violence, I come from a ‘good’ home and am well educated with a degree of intelligence. I consistently feel like I’m a failure and that this inability to be content with what really is a ‘good’ life.

The idea of physical pain sometimes intrigues me – that the focus of that physical pain will detract from the emotional suffering. Sometimes I fantasise of scoring a knife on my arms, to feel that pinprick of pain. To imagine the small beads of blood will form and that cleansing feeling as the blood drips down from the cuts. Why I don’t do it is fear. I’m afraid of the consequences and if I won’t be able to deal with the physical pain and dealing with the obvious external marks and questions that it will raise. I then realise what a foolish thought it is, that it will solve naught and only will take me further down a darker path.

However a part of me berates myself, hates myself for lacking the courage to do it. It seems like such a simple thing to do – just pick up the damn knife and do it. Faced with my own demons and its war with my rationality against the promises I’ve made my friends and doctors I turn away from it, and turn away from myself in disgust.

A friend who is into the BDSM scene once offered me the choice of exploring the boundaries of pain without leaving marks. Sometimes I think about that offer and I’m tempted. But I know I’m not sexually perverse and that I don’t want to push myself into that category, sinking deeper and in some ways becoming addicted to it. I know that it’s not healthy for me and won’t help my state of mind.

Also I wonder how I got to this point. How did the cumulative total of my experiences and my feelings lead me into this pit? When I was 20 and in love all I wanted was to marry my boy, have my children and live the most vanilla life. Now, I’m totally unsatisfied with being alive. The short term goals I set for myself are so fuzzy and some days I can’t get out of bed. All those long term goals have disappeared in a puff of smoke and I can barely imagine being alive 10 years from now let alone being married and having children.

I know I have to remember what it felt like to be in a good mood. To concentrate on the small joys of my life. To reflect on living. That cheer party is hard – and it takes a toll on me and took a toll on my friendships.  And I get better at managing it. Better at cleaning myself up. Better at paying the price. And better at behaving ‘normally’ when I’m out and about in society.

One of the hard things about being someone in the mental illness category is that many of your friends also belong in the same category, the better to understand and empathise. The flipside is that this renders many of them unresponsive for long stretches of time as they struggle to deal with the same kind of feelings.  Which sucks. Sometimes when you need someone they can’t be there. And sometimes when you try to reach out and be there for them, they aren’t willing to let you in. And I guess something that bothers me as well is that if that goes on long enough, that could just mean a quiet end to that friendship despite the fact I’ve tried to fight that from happening.

I’m just tired. Really tired.

My medication has helped with the physical aspect of depression, but it’s not a cure all. And unlike my other meds, I no longer have strong social anxiety. So I still have to face with emotional collateral that’s left over. It spurs me into the arena of self harm. Starvation to the fine line of eating disorder, fantasies about knives against my bare flesh, sexual risks – just so I can feel ‘alive’.

But I put food in my mouth, I don’t sleep around and I don’t try to make my fantasies into reality. I do the right thing by me. I make light of it to my friends and I rarely let it show, saving it up because I’m scared of losing people and scaring my friends off.

And I am ashamed. I’m ashamed of myself. I feel like my life isn’t going anywhere. I feel like I’m not going anywhere. I feel like a failure because it’s as if I can’t commit to either way – to living or to dying.  All I can recall is that line from Macbeth “My way of life has fallen into the sere“.

There’s all those plans, all those things I want to do – but they don’t matter anymore. Nothing matters at this time. All that matters is those ideas of pain. I keep at it, at those plans, but in the end when I lie alone in bed I keep thinking about pain and that “I like the way it hurts…”

Despite the title, I am not going to be talking about Star Wars.

As any and all who know me, I have been extremely busy with work for the past couple of months. However everything is starting to slow down and I am starting to find time to myself again.

It has been two months since I started this regime of medication and I feel like a different person. As a result, I am updating and cleaning up my poor little blog to reflect that. This by no means detracts from love of pink or Hello Kitty, but to set a different tone to highlight the person I have become. Without meaning to, I have become ‘reinvented’, something that my mental illness friends said could happen in the time that I was on anti-depressants.

Everyone at work has noticed the vast difference in me – from my energy levels, my humour and even the way I speak. Despite my ire whenever I stocktake a Priceline, I am now a lot more relaxed, easier to deal with and to talk to. My boss and good work mates have said that I have become a new, better person. My boss tells me I have even lost my waxy pallor and I look healthy.

I am constantly surprised and amazed at this new turn in my life. I eat less, I sleep less and yet I am still ready to get up and do it all over again. I am ready to step away from the shadows of doubt, the imaginings of failure and the insecurities that plagued my thoughts and just BE.

Something my boss said surprised me – he said that I have become less sharp and hurtful as a person and even thinking about what I say and how I say it. It has reflected in my interactions with people and that he was pointing it out because I might not see it. He said I probably was unaware of it and that if I did, I was too miserable to care and was lashing out. My boss is a very astute man, and he is in all probability making a truthful statement.

I know that in the last couple of years it has been a trying time for my family and my friends. I have treated some of them badly – and I have regrets about it. I understand what it is like to be both on the giving and receiving end. I lost a few friends because I withdrew from people, because I said things I should not of had or simply because they were unable to continue being friends with someone who had lost grip with reality. I have made many mistakes and though I can claim that it was derived from diseased thought processes it does not change the unalterable fact that my relationships with some people have been broken in some way.

In the past, I would mull on it and get upset. Possibly saying horrible things, possibly blaming myself and working myself into a fit. The valuable lessons I have learned through this rather horrid experience is that sometimes you just have to let it go and to not look back (well too often). What is done is done. Though I have regrets I am not going to go around and beg for scraps from people that I have offended in the vain hope that they forgive me.  I have learned I can live without these people – and in time if I ever see them again I shall tell them of my sincere regrets – but forgiveness works both ways. I should not need to beg, only to be receptive to communication. If I have made an offering before it is enough.

My relationship with my mother is also vastly improved. Because now I no longer feel the need to snap people’s heads off I do not bite hers. I am more patient with her and try to answer her questions to the best of my ability. And because I have a lot more energy, I am spending less time at home and consequently have less time to lose my temper at her. I am trying to do my part to be a better daughter by her. I think it has helped a lot that my father is out of the country. I feel that he stifles the both of us with his over critical observations and his controlling ways. My mother does not feel like she has to put on a show of ‘mothering’ us and I feel more able to express myself without being shot down. I love my father, but I have no respect for him as a person.

And the biggest change now? I am more receptive and open to new experiences. I realised recently that I have not had a real ‘date’ in 3 years. So I want to spend some time dating. I do not necessarily want to be in a relationship, I just want to discover who I am now and the types of people that will go along with it. I even got a guys number! (Shamed he turned out to be a total waste of time).  To complement this, I discovered that I no longer feel ‘lonely’. None of the deep twinges I used to get that made me long for someone in my life. My life is full of people and they are now all the more valuable as they have stuck by me through my time of need even when I was not a pleasant person.

Talking to my psychiatrist a couple of months ago I listed a few things that I wanted to do before I was 30. So here goes:

• Live in Canada
• Learn every type of ice skating jump (only singles, I am not deluding myself into thinking I am any sort of athlete)
• Get the first level of Actuarial exams done

I have thought about those things ever since I was a kid and they have stuck in the back of my mind for a long time. He liked my list because though I do have a time limit set for myself, it was flexible to move around if something else comes my way. They are independent of each other so that if I fail one, I will not have failed them all. And most of all, that they are all feasibly achievable.

I have always felt pressured to have a ‘career’ even though my instinct was to rebel. But its okay that I never achieved the heights of a career – I never wanted one. My dearest dream is to have a family and be a soccer mum chasing after my kids. I have still worked a lot and performed admirably and picked up a great many skills, so I have nothing to be ashamed of even if I did not become a doctor, qualify as a full actuary or work for Google.

In conclusion, I am a lot more philosophical about life and enjoying the moment I live in. Even that in itself is a novel experience as I have not felt it for quite some time. However I wanted to share all this with you, my reader, whoever you may be. Today is not only Canada Day, but the mark of a new chapter of my life. I am not going to hide behind any other names but stand proud of my own.

My name is Cecile and thank you for being part of my life.