I was reading through old texts today and found this, written 1st October 2008:
“Ultimately, it’s just one less person I can tell my problems to. What problems? Lack thereof, maybe?The whole thing probably seems a bit OTT. To me, it does. But it serves as a reminder of exactly how far I’ve come in one year.
How are ya, Emma? Weary.
Maybe I need a bit longer than twenty-five minutes to regroup. Though what conclusions I’d reach is unfathomable because I already know that all the faults in my life are compulsory elements. People don’t kill themselves because there is no God, they kill themselves because life is too great a disaster to try to overcome. I don’t think I can be criticised for being unable to contend with the elements: maybe I wasn’t brought up right or there’s something wrong with the education system. But I know that I am not cut out for this life thing. And lots of people would make lots of predictable, narrow-minded comments but, honestly, it wouldn’t change how I feel.
I don’t know if I’m asking for a miracle cure for my mini mental malady – though that wouldn’t go unappreciated – but I am asking for some kind of understanding or recognition or something. Someone to tell me that I’m not, I dunno, creative. That I haven’t just fabricated an ailment in my head. And even if I have, to tell me why. Why I’d do this to myself. Why I’d make myself suffer unendingly for the last year and a half. Which feels like a lot longer. I want someone to pinpoint exactly where my mind went wrong.”
The ‘one less person’ was someone I used to be very good friends with. At that time, our friendship had begun to decline and I was trying to justify the whole thing to myself, while also being in the midst of ill thoughts and the idea of the Leaving Cert. which was millennia down the line. Having tried a hundred and one times to mend that friendship, a year on, I know it’s not going to happen. We’ll never be friends in the same way we used to be.
When I read that text back earlier, I realised that you weren’t just someone I could tell my problems to. Because I have those sorts of people now, so your function isn’t required. But I miss you, as a person. I miss talking to you. And it isn’t like me to dwell on things like this, not after this long, but I miss you. And it kills me that we will never be real friends again.
On the subject of my state of mind in that slice of emotional carnage, things are very different now. A year on and, to a certain extent, I have things under control. Circumstances have not really changed, and I have endured my fair share of mini disasters in the last few months. But I am still alive and not depressed and things really could be a lot worse. Sometimes I find myself in situations from which there is no escape. But they work out. And I’ve sort of known all along that they would. Other times though, I get down. I feel crap and am resigned to the notion that I’m back to square one when I might not be at all.
There will be a bad day, and another one after that, and maybe a third. And I get scared that nothing has changed at all. But if you knew what it was like (and lots of people do, unfortunately) you’d understand my fear. That above text message is not a place I want to return to. I feel like I wouldn’t be able to do it again. Last year, my mind almost crippled the rest of me. And I haven’t the heart for it anymore.
Life is good right now. I’d like to say that I intend to keep it that way but I really don’t know how much control I have over my thoughts, in reality. Certainly the people around me these days help. It is so important to feel that there are people on my side, willing me to win the battle against my brain.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so positive, and yet so realistic. I know my life is not perfect – not by a long shot – but it is good. And that’s all I’m asking for. There are issues, but there are always issues. And there’ll be bigger ones in the future. But I’ll deal with them. One day at a time and all that.
Basically, in essence, to sum up, I’m happy in a very real way.