First blog post in a while, not because I’ve had nothing to write but because I have been so consumed by anxiety and depression of late that I am just simply glad to make it to the end of each day. This time of year is always a difficult one for me; for so many years I spent so many winters in hospital too unwell to do anything other than just scrape by surviving MS relapses, treatments and chemotherapies – so winter for me is mentally a season of negative associations, traumatic memories and gloom.

I wrote on my personal Facebook account earlier that ‘I am as honest as they come….. until it comes to being honest with myself’. So, it’s time to get honest…… I think people think I suffer with depression in general because of my MS – I always find this to be a strange one because if I’m honest I never feel depressed about having MS; I’ve got it, it’s incurable, it’s torture but I’ve got it for like so physically I just role with it. I can understand why people would think I suffer with depression because of my MS but the truth is my depression began to loom during my early teens, years before any symptom of MS. I’m very mentally robust in a lot of ways – I laugh through some horrendous times and symptoms but then my mind seems to operate on a different frequency the rest of the time.

I was diagnosed with MS at the age of 21, within 6 months I was fighting for my future in Walton Neuro, I spent most of the following year in hospital because my MS was simply relentless. That year though eroded my mind; hyperventilating panic attacks became a regular occurrence, my nights were sleepless or tormented by nightmares, and the grand finally to a year of hell was that I eventually snapped…..

A nervous breakdown at the age of 23, it left my quite literally speechless and I had never felt so empty and lost. I recover well physically but my mind has never quite managed to find its way back to my pre breakdown life, to admit this to you all is harder than you can begin to imagine. The past month or so have been a gradual decent into the lonely darkness of depression and unbearable internal struggles I am facing every day with anxiety. 

A wise Doctor once told me that anxiety is irrational, and that is what makes it so difficult to battle; never has a truer word been spoken. I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to socialise, I don’t want to pretend I’m ok, I don’t want to feel consumed by such gloom but more than anything I don’t want to feel afraid of not knowing where my real breaking point is – I’ve been there before and I cannot go back there. I need to find a strength that only I can muster, I know that I can do this, I know that I was to live, but I also know that to struggle mentally is far more torturous that any of the physical battles I have ever endured. If you can relate to this post then know this, tomorrow might just be the day you start to feel a tiny bit better and that alone is most certainly holding out for
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