Depression is pain.

Depression is physical. Raw physical discomfort. Pain in my head and in my chest.

As Matt Haig writes; if I walked around with my head on fire, people would look. But they can’t see the fire, because depression is invisible.

I hate depression.

I cannot begin to articulate how much I resent the fact that depression is like a contagious disease in our society, affecting so many people. All ages. All genders. Everyone.

People you would ‘least expect’ to suffer with depression are taking their own lives.

What an awful way to describe a victim of suicide. ‘Least expect’. Who are we to judge who would and wouldn’t be in such a dark place that they saw taking their own lives as the only way out and way to stop the pain? Who or what determines the ‘type’ of person ‘least likely’ to kill themselves?

We do. Society does. We are to blame for creating a stereotype that ‘isn’t fazed’, and wouldn’t suffer with poor mental health because they’re ‘too pretty/rich/happy’, and always seems like they’re having fun on social media, and goes out all the time at uni, and was previously on Love Island…

I hate Love Island. I love it. Series 3 was my favourite. But I despise how it makes me, and others like myself, feel. Bad about ourselves. Not good enough. Not pretty/skinny/funny enough.

How can a reality TV programme, from which two ex-contestants have taken their own lives, possibly justify remaining on our TV screens???????? I don’t understand. When is one suicide too much? When is one life not important enough to sit up and listen and change the way we are doing things?

Male suicide. The single biggest killer amongst men. Men in the UK being THREE TIMES as likely to take their own lives than women. THREE TIMES. Yet we still teach men to ‘man up’ because ‘men don’t cry’ and ‘men don’t get depression’ and ‘don’t express emotion’ and all that other bullshit. Leaving Men alone. Feeling like they have no one to turn to. Because they’re ‘supposed’ to be happy and not sad. Men are people. Humans. With feelings and emotions. Just like you and I. It’s a fucking disgrace.

Society is responsible for creating these destructive stereotypes of men. And society constitutes of people like you and I. So we are responsible. And WE therefore have the ABILITY TO CHANGE these stereotypes and the social psyche, and let men just be people. Gender equality and all that. Feminists, this is your time to act.

So check on him. Ask if he’s okay. If he’s not, tell him THAT’S OKAY. Everyone feels sad sometimes. No one is happy all the time. Make him feel a little less alone. Because he may not feel like he has anyone else to turn to. Listen. Support.

Check on her too. Do exactly the same thing. Check on all your loved ones most precious to you.

It worries me. At what stage will society have to get to, and the severity of mental health within it, until we realise and begin making changes actively, rather than reluctantly?

Is it because of fear? Of laziness? I don’t know.

I do know, however, that depression has the ability to ruin and destroy lives. It doesn’t mean it will or has to. That lies in our control. But it’s really fucking hard to fight sometimes.

When I reflect consciously, on a head level, about how I am feeling and the thoughts I experience, I know it’s ‘bad’. Not healthy. Not normal. I am aware. I know of the physical and emotional pain. The pain is very real.

But when I have watched a friend and someone I care about express similar unhealthy thoughts, desires and feelings, my mind went into overdrive. I was trying to process the upsetting idea of my friend experiencing such harrowing thoughts much like my own, whilst simultaneously experiencing thoughts flicking into my head saying ‘but this is how you feel, and this is how others may feel when listening to you express such thoughts’.

The two were conflicting, fighting in my head. Tears. Pain. Emotional and physical discomfort. Pain.

Not sure where else to go with these conflicting thoughts, but I know my heart hurts for my friend. I’m worried. Are they safe?

Are these thoughts that go through others’ minds when thinking about me?

Mental health is selfish. Depression is is selfish. It makes you self-absorbed. You only think about yourself and how you’re feeling. You forget about others around you.

Have you taken a moment to think about the woman on the train sat next to you, dressed in black from head to toe, black SkullCandy headphones on, tapping her black nails on her phone screen whilst chewing gum vigorously?

Here, I have just succumbed to a horrible example of stereotyping. I’m not proud. But bare with.

How don’t you know that she is sat there, on the train, listening to a podcast on mindfulness, chewing those Rescue Remedy gums (taste gross FYI) and writing her own Curious Mind Blog?

I’m not her, by the way. But I could be. The point being that you don’t know what is going on for others around you. Others who may appear unfazed and happy all the time and like they always have their shit together. Trust me, I definitely don’t. I have a pile of dirty dishes stacked up in the kitchen waiting for the elves to come and clean them. They could be waiting a while.

Be kind. A powerful and important, yet incredibly simple message. Be kind. Be nice to others.

It’s not difficult. As they say, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

There is SO much hate in this world. My studies in Politics and passion for it, in which I read/watch/listen to related wider materials as much as possible/I feel able/I want to, has certainly illuminated a huge amount of existing hatred in our world today. You only have to look across the pond at the orange-coloured bigot and Leader of the Western World (allegedly) with a shit toupee, small hands and a mouth that looks like a cat’s anus. Or peer closer to home, and you will find our very own bigot and ‘man of the people’, who will most likely be dressed in purple, leant against the bar in some shabby pub and clutching a pint of lager with his goppy hand. I could go on.

So, for this simple reason, BE KIND. Just be nice. Because it makes you feel so much better when you have been kind to another person, and makes them feel better too. Everyone’s a winner. Happy days. Not difficult at all. We can all do it. And maybe if we did all do it more often there would be less pain and suffering. Less depression. Less loneliness. Less lives lost for which they felt it wouldn’t make a difference whether they were alive or dead. I’ve felt that pain. Empty. Lonely.

……

My first blog post. It’s been surprisingly therapeutic. I’ve been sat here for about 45 minutes and haven’t moved. Mindfulness. Reflection. ‘Me time’. A load of thoughts splashed onto a page. That’s all I have to say for now. And I haven’t proof-read this before publishing because I’m too tired and can’t be arsed.

E x