Struggling For Honesty

This blog gave me a place to put my feelings to release my hurt and to talk about the things I needed to talk about. But in the process of sharing this blog with those that I love, it stopped being a safe place for me to be honest and I started to hide or sugar coat the things that I needed to say. It’s why it started anonymous and why I should have kept it that way.
So if I have any right to ask a favour I’m going to ask this one; if you know me, if you know who I really am, stop reading. I need the anonymity to be able to be honest and I really need a place to be honest again. Because I know its ok not to be ok, but when I’m not ok I need a safe place to talk and I feel like I’ve lost that.
When I blog about depression and dealing with anxiety there’s a sense that it’s ok because that was then and this is now. I’m through the worst of it and so there was always a sense that even when I was low it’s ok because I’m not ‘that’ low. But how low do I need to be before it’s a problem, the more you ignore those moments the more they build and the lower low becomes; until you realise you waited too long. For me, I cried at work. I cried at work and then I realised I had a problem. No it wasn’t in front of the kids, thank goodness for small mercies, but it was in front of colleagues. Colleagues who were shocked and surprised that their strong co-worker who is never stressed had broken. And why were they shocked? Because I’m a master and pretending everything is ok. It’s really the only thing I know I’m truly great at. I have a mask an inch thick, one that never cracks and never moves, you can’t see through it or past it there’s no gaps at the eyes for you to seek the truth in its impenetrable and it took my years to build. When I write here I take it off and bare my soul, but at work I wear that mask to protect myself and those around me and it’s exhausting that mask weighs heavy on my shoulders, I need to take it off sometimes. That’s what I lost here; the reprieve, the release, the moments of honesty.
I didn’t turn to my blog, I didn’t turn to the one place that has helped me process 2 years worth of feelings. And I felt that loss, because putting it here would mean telling those I loved that I’m still not ok, I don’t want them to worry about me, I don’t want anyone to worry about me I just want to be able to say what’s on my mind and not feel a sense of letting people down. Or worse have people tell me how brave and strong I am when all I feel is weakness and cowardice.
I feel enough guilt from myself, like I’m letting myself down every time I have bad days. By feeling low and have anxious thoughts I’m wasting the gift I gave myself, wasting the progress I made. I know that mental ill health is not something you fix, it’s lifelong and you learn to manage it better, I know that. And yet. And yet I still feel like I’ve failed somehow when I feel like this. I can’t put a happy twist on the end and say it’s all ok I learnt a lesson and that’s what really mattered because the only lesson I learnt was that I’m not as invincible as I thought I was.
Perhaps the lesson I learnt is that I have depression. But that is a horrific thought that I’ve been through everything I’ve been through, travelled the world, fundamentally changed who I am as a person but that person still has depression and anxiety.
That may be a truth that I have to accept but I’m not ready to, I don’t want to. I feel like a child banging their fists against the floor having a temper tantrum because they can’t have their own way. But hey that’s how I feel and I’m so, so, so glad I finally got to say that.

surrounded by beauty but realising you're still standing alone, something tethering you to shore, stopping you from drifting away...