I stopped talking openly about depression a long time ago.
Really, I stopped talking openly about anything full stop.
Something I used to explore and deal with through writing came to a grinding halt when I began working full-time jobs. There were a lot of reasons for this – mainly, I didn’t want my mental health to eclipse my achievements and I didn’t want it to define me. But even now with a job I adore, I’ve still been reluctant to discuss my ongoing journey with my mental health for fear of how I’ll be perceived.
I’ve been wondering why, every time I tried to write a blog post in the last two years, something felt off. My writing felt stiff and jarring and I felt like I’d lost the magic and I didn’t know how to get it back. Recently, I’ve realised what’s missing – I’m not being honest in the way I used to be.
“I vowed to always be honest on this blog,” I wrote in April 2018. And for a while, I was. I used to talk about everything. I talked about my depression, my anxiety, my relationships, breakups, my incurable STD, my cervix, birth control, menstrual cups, sex advice – you name it, I’ve talked about it. And I miss that. I miss that I used to be open and provide a space for other people to learn something or find comfort that they weren’t the only one struggling with something. I had so many people reach out to me after I posted publicly about having Herpes saying that it made them feel less alone – and this is exactly why I went public about it.
In a similar vein, I keep trying to write tweets to express how I’m feeling but they never get posted. I read them a million times before sending them to my drafts. And I’ve done the same with countless blog posts. I feel like I’ve silenced myself on my own platforms.
But I do have a voice. I have struggles and I want to talk about them on my own damn platforms without making myself feel terrible about it. I want to talk about my experiences in a constructive way and if I can make just one person feel less alone, then it’s worth it. Even if that one person is just myself.
Baby, I’m back.
For real this time.
Darcy Wilde. 