Conflicting Minds

Depression is a word which is thrown around loosely. Feeling sad is extremely different to feeling depressed.

Sadness is a light grey-blue. Like the colour of a spring sky that is covered by a light blanket of rain clouds. Sadness is lukewarm and its shape has fluffy edges.

Depression, on the other hand, is a dark, dark grey with an obvious pink tinge when you look for it. The pink is a slightly brighter, more pink shade of pink that you get in a summer sun set. Pink means pain. Nothing changes that fact. And the greys are always going to be in the bottom half of the spectrum.

So, why am I writing about depression? For me, it has played an enormous part in my life for the past three years. And it made me hate this gift so much that I would have done anything to get rid of it. And the sad part is: over the past three years, I have tried to kill myself so many times. Just to get rid of the colours.

The fog of depression hung over me for such a long time, I began to truly hate everything about me and I wished to be normal or dead. Preferably dead.

Hiding these feelings from the people around me was always challenging. I'm not going to lie and say that they were with me solidly. I'd go through such incredible highs and then I'd dive into a spiralling low. This was what made it challenging.

It was easiest to show the high all the time. That way people wouldn't know what was going on inside. The biggest and most obvious flaw was the fact that when I didn't have the energy to up hold the façade, or I simply couldn't be bothered; people would notice it because it was so incredibly 'out of character'.

Recently, I've been in the worst spiral of depression yet. It started in mid November.

During this time, I tried to kill myself several times and I am not proud of that fact, but I am so incredibly thankful that I failed.

The last four months have most positively been the worst. It became apparent to me that not everyone sees the colours that I do, and that yes, it's not 'normal' but it is a truly amazing thing to have. The people closest to me began to know about the colours. And their support and loyalty was so fantastic; I would not be here without them. Literally!

The support and loyalty they showed me gave me a new colour: Hope.

Hope is a beautiful, deep, rich indigo- slightly heavier on the purple side. Its warm and like an old favourite jumper that you wear on cold, snowy evenings whilst sitting in bed with your favourite book in the world and a hot chocolate. The feeling of it is so warm and perfect that you don't want it to ever fade. It is truly magical.

But even now, and even on the fabulous days, my mind is constantly fighting with itself. I want to die. I want to feel the beautiful turquoise feeling of starvation. I want to cover myself in the bright, hot pink colour of pain as I watch my blood run. But I also want to live and see everyone grow into fantastical humans. I want to be a world class athlete. I don't want the scars.

This is the down side to the colours: Sometimes the most beautiful colours are the ones that you can't have because they are dangerous to you. The turquoise of starvation is the third most beautiful colour I have ever seen, and yet nobody quotes understand that the months I spend starving myself are just to see the colour and are in the vain hope that the colour will stay with me if I get to a point where my body is constantly feeling the turquoise. And it's no secret that what I see in the mirror is a whole load of weight that can be lost.

The constant internal bickering between the two sides in my head won't go away. This fight won't end any time soon. It is going to stay with me for the rest of my life. It is part of me. The colours. The highs. The lows. The conflicting halves of my mind will never go.

Without being able to physically see hope, I honestly don't think I'd be here. I have the most fantastic mates in the world who made me see how lucky I am, and showed me that life is a truly marvellous thing!!

Thank you!!