Birthday Dilemmas

“After all, what are birthdays? Here today and gone tomorrow.”
- Eeyore (from A. A. Milne’s ‘Winnie the Pooh’)


Another year gone. I’ve now officially been on this planet for 19 years and I’m trying to work out where the time has gone. This is the problem I have with birthdays, I can’t help looking back and reflecting on what I’ve done since the last one, and my thoughts aren’t sitting well with me. On one hand you could say that I’ve achieved a fair bit during the last year; I’ve finally come to terms with my depression, I’m getting weekly counselling sessions during term time, I’m slowly getting over my views on anti-depression medication, I’ve successfully completed my first year in university...all things which show that I’m moving on in my life, so why do I feel that the opposite is true?

My counsellor and doctors would probably tell you that my battle with depression has moved on immensely since my last birthday. I don’t disagree with them that accepting that I suffer from the condition is a big step in the right direction, but looking back, I can’t see what has changed. For example, I still can’t bring myself to tell people about my illness, I still have major problems when it comes to talking face-to-face with someone about my feelings; I hide emotions and hide my true self. I feel that the depression itself has gotten worse. Compared to last year, my general happiness is much lower; my depressive episodes are more frequent, last longer and are more severe. I am finding myself feeling vulnerable and considering suicide far more often than the previous year and I have found myself coming far too close to giving into these thoughts.

So here I am, on my birthday, sitting here desperately wanting to cry but my body, so used to hiding such emotion, is refusing to let the tears fall. I feel like a failure. I’m letting this illness take over my life. It’s making me lie to my friends and family, it’s causing me so much conflict in my head that I rarely get over six hours sleep at night, basically it makes me feel shit and I can’t see it changing. It makes me wonder, what will I be thinking in a year’s time? Will I be looking back like I always do and seeing an improvement in my life, or will I be seeing how my depression has taken over more of my life and be in an even bigger state of despair and worthlessness?

One question is even more prominent.

Will I even be here in a year’s time...?