The difference 6 months makes

Today is a milestone day for me. It’s my first day off the anti-depressants I was prescribed 6 months ago.

I’m not going to focus on the situations that brought me so low that I agreed to get medical help with my depression. However, I felt that today deserved a post just because of what I’ve managed to achieve since hitting rock bottom in my own head.

So, inspite of the odds being stacked against me, I managed to get an awesome new job, get back on to the dating scene and meet the bloke, get back into an exercise routine, taught myself to draw, and started writing this blog. Also, today happens to be the day I have moved on to nicotine free liquid for my e-cigarettes, which marks my longest time off cigarettes since I started smoking.

That may all seem trite to many who read this, but they never saw the version of me who was a crumpled, sodden mess on my Dads settee for 3 weeks. Back then, the shit had well and truly hit the fan for me, and my own depression meant I was not in a place to cope with it in a way I normally would have done.

I have the people who actually took the time out of their lives to check in on me to thank for being able to raise my head above the parapet. They know who they are. A lot of supportive people – more than I probably have a right to – were there for me when I started to stand up again, and get back to kicking bottom and taking names.

Apologies for the brag post. I just feel so awesome right now, I wanted to share. Depression turns your own head against you, which is one of the things that makes it so debilitating. The person I was 6 months ago is barely reconcilable with the person I know that I am, and it’s fabulous knowing that I’m back.

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