I’ve been reading back through some of my old journals, as I used to be a big journal writer. Some of it is great reading – as I was a HUGE believer in the travel journal. I managed to capture some of the moments beautifully. Other parts are not so great. I have struggled with depression – on and off – for 18 years, and this, out of everything, is the main ‘protagonist’ in the journals that I have kept, branching back to around 1997.
I thought I’d share with you a little exert I found in my reading, which I think captures one of the many feelings that someone in depression may experience. This is from 2001. I was 23.
‘The clamouring in my head at times is too great. At a certain point I feel as if I cannot cope. The world rushes by and my mind takes everything in, analyses is, digests it and spits it out in new scenarios. There is no break in the traffic, no stop light, no little green man to say ‘It’s okay, you can cross now, everything will be okay.’ No, the traffic just rushes past, and I sit and wait for it all to die down. Sometimes it does…in the middle of the night when no one is around. Silence. Peace settles in, until once again I am confronted by the rush, and it all begins once again’.