Generation Of Sadness

Generation Of Sadness

A snippet of whats to come

Poor mental health is something we will all struggle with to some degree within our lives and I want to express this without sugar coating the demons and pretend bullshit doesn’t exist. I don’t want this to be another failing self help book that can only really help on the days you are actually motivated to do something, when you hit the times when you can’t think of one good thing you’d get out of it there’s really no point. As time has moved on I realised you need a certain mindset to even begin to look at changing your negative thoughts, you need to be fully and I mean 100% okay with the past things you’ve experienced to change anything.  

It’s about the mental state of mine and the next generation. I want to bring real life realisation to events that can and will happen when you or someone you know is struggling with mental health issues. I want to express that we all understand that these feelings will happen to almost everyone throughout their life and having them doesn’t mean you’re crazy. Unfortunately, it makes you human, an emotional being that reacts in negative circumstances that causes a reaction we can’t possibly begin to comprehend. 

Mental health issues are an increasing problem within this generation and as I delve into mental health issues I begin to realise throughout the years mental health issues have become more acceptable and although our society doesn’t talk about it nearly as much as we should do we don’t use unusual torture and throwing them into a prison like institution to forget completely about them. In modern day society, we are more open about mental health issues weather we really understand them and accept them for what they are or sill treating it as an alien experience in human nature. I’m still unsure. 

This story wouldn’t be told if I didn’t get the support I needed throughout my own struggle with anxiety and depression. Throughout these pages I want to explore the hardships of our loved ones that see first-hand the pain we go through. So, thank you loved ones for everything you try to do to help even if it’s not well received and ends in more tears, rage or silence.  

Yes, this story is mine…in part.   

The Very Beginning  

8:30 AM, A pounding headache, what a way to wake up from a sleepless night. Tears not even dry from the overwhelming breakdown that stole my beauty sleep. Reluctantly I roll out of bed in to the two ft space between my bed and the radiator, dragging my feet to the mirror. I can hardly recognise my own reflection; a shadow of the person I use to be or is it dream to be. The bags under my eyes are twice as big as they normally are and I worry I don’t have enough concealer to try and hide the fact I’m not sure what sleep is anymore. I can hardly think without constant flashbacks of my failure, self-conscious hatred and the night before. 

It was an ordinary night, yet I lost every sense of sanity when my head hit the pillow, reckless thoughts and uncomfortable anxiety. I had become my biggest obstacle whenever it came to going out alone matter of fact it was whenever I had to go anywhere with anyone. I’d persuade myself that there’s no point in going because I’d only fail anyway. Then the sudden rush of what would they think if I didn’t show up niggled away at the back of my mind constantly digging at me, what will they think, what will they say and I’m letting them down AGAIN. Not only that but the fact I’m getting nowhere would be a broken record playing again and again like a whisper in my head telling I’m not good. What would I do instead and I need to make a move to something ‘awesome’ are classic thoughts that push me over the edge.   

I’m in the last year of youth and have been hanging on too sanity with the tip of my fingers for the past 3 years. I’ve been swinging from support branch to support branch with them snapping at the weight of my self-absorbed hatred. I’ve been through three different therapists, two types of therapies and what feels like an infinite number of sessions, discussing the sane thing to every single one. But I’m lucky, I managed to get in front of a professional before it was too late, even if it took me at least three attempts.  

 I have struggled severely since college where I received an onsite college councillor and work mentor to help me manage my feelings and mental capability having an hour or so to take time out and express my frustrations really helped. Although I wasn’t sure what direction the support was heading and if it was helping or just stretching out my patience with the place. I told several teachers, tutors and friends that I didn’t want to be there but what they failed to realise is that I not only meant college but unfortunately life as a whole. I was slowly but surely slipping into a dark place where my high expectations finally collapsed into what was the low reality of my life, that infact no matter how I dream and hope it was never going to be movie awesome just every day contentment. I didn’t realise this until much later on and I’  My councillor and I decided that college wasn’t the right place for me at that time so we decided it would be best if I left, at first I was feeling positive about this decision because I truly believed that college was the whole reason for my problems. Within this positive stream of thoughts, I wanted to get some guidance of where I should be looking to become the journalist I so desired to be. Careers advice seemed like a great place to start, when I walked in to their office I suddenly broke down and I guess my real feelings of leaving began to show. The words that followed my overwhelmed mumbberling have never left me, “You don’t have the mental capability to be a journalist.” I’m not sure if they really was said with such aggression at the time but to my mind, to my delicate and helpless self it was like a punch to the stomach and I was about to leave college with nothing I wanted or even could do all my hope and excitement fizzled away and I was left accepting that I would do nothing with my life from this day forward, spiralling me into a deep and heart-breaking depression. At the end of the year I decided I wouldn’t go back to the next term and in that instant my entire support system was dropped and I was left searching for some sort of mental help.I was lost with half qualification that I wasn’t sure would help me anymore than my five years at secondary school helped me to get to this point. I waisted an entire year 

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