Reclaiming Colour

During my particularly depressive periods, I would neglect everything; school, food, sleep, hygiene, my friends, my family, myself, leaving my anxiety to frantically pick up the pieces. But that wasn’t necessarily helpful either because when my anxiety took over I would obsess over one particular aspect which I had neglected, usually school. I would continue to miss out on sleep, food and friendships but this time, instead of simply abandoning them, I would substitute them for a grade. I would trade my health, my friends and my family, for a letter.

During these depressive periods, it wasn’t so much that I didn’t think that there would be consequences for my actions, it’s just that they didn’t seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter. If I had had the emotional capacity to laugh I would have found the prospect of making cereal, going out with friends, or having a career in the future absolutely hysterical. When you want to die, or at least when you don’t particularly care about living, everything seems so trivial.

I feel like I was living in greyness for so long and now that the colour is returning I regret not creating something beautiful or having positive experiences like most teenagers do. I feel like I’ve wasted my life, even though I’m only nineteen. I think that may be one reason why it is so hard to recover, why it can often seem that we are addicted to what hurts us, because once you've committed yourself to the greyness, even though it wasn't your choice, you don't want to admit that all of your time spent in the greyness was wasted. But if you don't recognise and accept what your life was like, you'll never find out what it could be.

That’s something I’m struggling with at the moment, admitting that I’ve missed out on a lot of experiences because if I don’t admit this I will miss out on so much more.

So, I’m starting this blog, it may not be much but at least it’s something. At least I’m doing something. And even if it only helps one person it will be worth it. Even if that one person is me.

“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

— Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

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If you liked this post, you may also like my post 'Happiness Isn't The Default'.