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Unsteady and Unsure: First Post

Depression denial is something a lot of you have probably experienced. "Me, depressed? Nooo, surely not- it's just a rough patch." It's damaging, maybe as damaging as depression itself.

In February 2013, I fell ill. 5 to 6 days a week were in pain, ranging from moderate to severe. Constant pain. It started with a few headaches, nothing much. But it got worse, fast, and before I knew it it had taken over my life. I went to the doctors, which didn't get me far- "it's just a phase, hormones, you'll get over it." was said all too often, so I just waited it out. Waited for the phase to pass. Except this 'phase' wasn't me going vegan, becoming obsessed with animal rights or taking comfort in the screams and heavy drums of Metal music, it was a breakdown.

I've had no contact with my father since the age of 5. He left my mum for another woman, and left me too. My first memory- and only memory of him- is him pushing my mother against a wall. Two younger brothers, with a different father to I, aged 10 and 11. One angry at everything and everyone for life's injustices- for his father becoming an alcoholic and drinking vodka out of the bottle whilst reading him bedtime stories. The other with epilepsy and autism, baffled by the world and struggling with his differences.

Almost 4 years ago now we moved almost 300 miles away from our home to flee domestic abuse. My mothers ex boyfriend was abusive and manipulative, so much so he convinced mum to leave me to live with my grandmother for 9 months with no contact. I was 9. She split up with him, and we became a happy family again...until they got back together. It all ended with me coming home from school one day greeted by police, a trashed house and mum in the corner of the kitchen sobbing, covered in cuts and bruises.

He'd blown.

I moved from home for my mother and brothers. I didn't need to- I could have stayed with my grandmother- but it was the best thing for them. I gave up much of my social life to care for my autistic and epileptic brother, and it all ended in a breakdown.

The illness made me iscolated and inevitably depressed. I had to adjust from being an achedemic, outgoing  person to a 'stay in bed all day' kind of person. I've since overcome the illness, but the depression...that's a whole other story, and that's why I'm here now. I feel so 'stuck', like I can't do anything until I've overcome the massive hurdle that's infront of me.

I'm not really sure what I'm looking for here. A friend maybe, I really don't know. Just someone that understands.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story.

Carys

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