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The Little White Lie...

...That I'm Done Telling Myself

By Rachel HillPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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I can't really pinpoint where it started to fall apart, but I have a general timeline over the last two years. Reflecting on this past year, I've recognized that it's probably been one of the most challenging, boring years I've ever experienced in my 30 years of living. Honestly though, this last year I don't think qualifies for "living" but more like "just making it through another exactly same day."

Let me back up a bit... Hi, my name is Rachel. I've been diagnosed with severe depression and characteristics of bipolar this year. I also relocated to a new city and state for a new job, was laid off from new job, started working 3 jobs, and started grad school. Oh, and I turned 30 back in August. Needless to say, 2017 has not been the greatest year.

Prior to this, I was living in a larger city with a roommate that I really did not like barely affording life with a job that hardly had any room for moving up any time soon. I'd had a few really bad dating experiences since relocating to that larger city, of which finally took its toll two years ago. I would like to believe that the downfall started with my 28th birthday and people buying me an ungodly amount of Gigi's cupcakes, but that's just personal opinion.

You see... I can recall a time where I was happy two or more years ago. Sure life had its ups and downs, but I was happier and healthier. Then I let my emotions run a muck, I started eating more of the bad shit I knew better, and the weight just manifested. Over the course of the last two years, I have managed to gain about 50ish pounds. Yeah. So last year, what did I decide to do? I took a new job offer and relocated somewhere that no one knew me, that I could start over. Did I? No. Instead I almost repeated the same mistakes, and rather than confront everything I just gave up. I left the gym I was at and went to another one that doesn't keep me as accountable no matter how much I lie to myself. I ended up being laid off around the same time that I got back on antidepressants (thankfully) and thus the job search began. I ended up finding something that allows me to work from home which is awesome. But I just can't find my motivation to get off my couch and make myself happy through exercise.

And this scares me. Not only does it make the depression worse by not getting up and moving, but I think it makes me further prove to myself that the depression is winning. And I don't want that. I once had a friend ask me to describe what my depression felt like, and I don't think I really did. My depression is like a blanket of water that is constantly weighing me down, that won't allow me to think that I can get up or out of it. The common misconception I think that people think about depression is that it automatically means I want to just die. No, not so much. Prior to medication, sure the idea crossed my mind once or twice but not to a point where I had a plan. To me, that just means that there's certain degrees of depression that anyone can be it, and it can be temporary and fleeting or linger like mine has. Mostly, my depression convinces me that I've been here before and even if I try, I'm more than likely just going to end up back here... except with more cats. So why bother?

Excellent, yet long winded way to ask that, right? I know I'm not alone in my thoughts and that thousands of people struggle day in and day out with their depression. This writing, and the writings that I want to follow, are hopefully my personal documented journey that I want to share with you, the reader. I want to be honest, with myself and you, as a means to not only help you recognize and put to words what you're feeling, but to also help me recognize and put into words what I'm feeling and thinking again. I think that has been half the battle. You see, I used to write everyday. I don't know why I lost touch with this trait of mine, but I did, and thus began to lose touch with what I feel. That's sometimes part of the depression as well, not feeling anything or numbing oneself. I've done it for so long, that I think I'd just accepted what was happening.

Not anymore. This is my declaration of freedom, to feel what I want, say what I need, and to getting my life back for myself. This is an uphill battle and I've chosen to push one heavy as fuck boulder up that hill... But it's one hell of a workout and one hell of a story. So please, join me. Help me get my life back. Help me help you see that we are all so worth ourselves and our lives. Help me help others to realize they're not alone.

This is day fucking one. Here we go.

coping
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About the Creator

Rachel Hill

You create the life you want to have.

"Leave it. Change it. Accept it."

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