AnnaLeah

AnnaLeah, a student at University, closet depressed.

Hi,

I'm Leah, and I have depression. I feel I should be saying this statement standing in front of you all seated in a circle. But discussing such a thing in public (even the public of other sufferers) isn't really my cup of tea. I've had this thing for as long as I can remember, though I never truly realised what it was until about a month ago.

This thing has appeared in many forms throughout the past years. From something resembling an eating disorder to alcohol abuse. None of these things I would ever admit to having. As in the end 'I'm fine, don't worry' has become a trademark saying. I don't really know where to begin without getting entangled in snippets of my life.

I write this as I lie in my bed, a position I have been in for two days now. Everytime I roll out I am struck by deafening thoughts of abuse and worries. My limbs feel dead and I seem to only be able to sleep for an hour at a time. Outside my bedroom terrifies me, yet I know, this haven of my bedroom is really my prison. I'll feel better when I get out, which I will do, tomorrow. I have lectures and an essay due and friends to see and a boy to flirt with and, oh god, it's exhausting me just typing it.

Most of my housemates don't even know I have depression, they think I'm on tablets for a bad stomach. I do have a bad stomach, but I think that was mostly caused by the two dozen or so paracetomal I took a few weeks ago. Which consequently left me spending two days throwing up. This was before I was put on Citalopram (20mg), when my doctor and counsellor found out a week later what I had done.

But...I'll be reet. Citalopram have been working the past two weeks before I had this wasted weekend. I'll be fine by tomorrow. I have to be.

AL x