Is it strange that I can pinpoint the exact date and time when I first realised that I was suffering with proper, serious mental health problems? It feels odd, really. Especially when I think that the moment, when it happened, is now almost a whole year ago. In case you’re wondering, it was Thursday 10th July 2014. Possibly I’ve come a long way in those twelve, very long months. Possibly I haven’t. I’m not really sure. What I do know is that my life will forever be divided into the times before that day and the times after it.
What I do know is that in the last few weeks I’ve begun to be able to think about the times before last July in a much more positive way. I’ve begun to recognise that there are actually a whole bunch of great memories and achievements that I have every right to be genuinely proud of. Whatever mistakes and poor choices I may have made – and for those I am content in myself that the consequences will be whatever they will be – that does not change the good things that I have also done.
It’s really helped me, when I’ve been feeling down, to be able to look back on good times past. It’s also meant that I’ve begin to think about my future in terms of the things that I can do and the things that I can achieve. I’m sure that anyone who has been suffering with depression will tell you, that’s a hugely powerful thing, and I cannot believe how good it feels.