Like a tube of pringles

I saw the media I posted below today and had to put it on while I remembered. It has a lot of the comments people have said to me regarding depression, anxiety and not eating just stop doing it.  The thing is I am like a tube of Pringles once I started I couldn’t stop or explain why I was self harming or not eating. Life is not always that simple nor things in black and white.

I will continue my story that is the subject my blog will be about.  However I will blog in between about other things too mainly because even though I am writing my story down it brings back the memories about how I felt at the time.

On a positive note I feel like I am beginning to suss this blogging out….. Well kind of just click things and hope for the best.

From the begining

Well this is a learning curve.  Blogging seems a bit more confusing than first thought.  As you can tell I have never wrote a blog before in my life. I hope someone will have a look at my blog and read my story.  Tips on blogging are welcome too 🙂 .

A good place to start!

I have had depression on and off for 13 years (which is a long time).  I honestly am not sure what was the trigger.  I had a few things which may have contributed my Grandmother who I was extremely close to died when I was 13 I never got the chance to say goodbye as I had just got home from a family holiday and had exams at school.  Around that time I was also being bullied at high school.

I have always had high standards that I set for myself (the way I look and what I can achieve).  I was compared to other people when I was in my teens which did not help how I felt about myself.  I felt like I was a failure compared to other people and failure was something I detested.

This gradually led me to start drowning in my own head and unable to fight the demons.  I never spoke to anyone about how I felt. I just painted a smile on my face and carried on as if nothing was wrong.

The cracks eventually slowly began to show.  I started to self harm just with objects with a sharp edge or my own nails never enough to draw blood.  I was watching television one evening and on the news they were discussing suicide and self harm.  A family member retorted “its a cowards way out”.  I never told anyone I was self harming until 11 years later.  I did not want to be known or seen as a coward.