The Grey Cloud.

I have depression.

I was diagnosed around 18 months ago, but am only really telling people now. Immediately after I found out, I went through a period where I told lots of people – I got very drunk and very high (sorry dad) at a party and told 4 people in 10 minutes. They were some of my closest friends, and they weren't surprised. It’s taken me a lot longer to tell my family, and any of my other friends – some very close, some distant, all wonderful.

In October 2015 I’d gone to speak to a nurse at my GP, and she told me, very frankly, ‘I think you have depression.’ As soon as she said it, I realised I already knew. That’s all I thought - I know. And at that time, just to know was a relief.

* * *

Depression (as with all mental illnesses) is a very personal thing; I don’t believe that two people experience it in the same way.

Mine is what you might call “mild”. I have scores of good days; weeks can go by and I won’t notice it. Then I’ll have a cluster of bad days and nights. I won’t sleep much, I’ll over eat, I’ll be unfriendly and sullen, and I’ll cry and cry and cry for hours at a time. During these times I find it a struggle to get out of bed and into the shower, to leave the house or to talk on the phone. Recently, my brain has developed the clever strategy of convincing my body that it’s ill, I guess so I have a “reason” not to do any of those things.  This is something I discovered at my last counselling session.  

Churchill described his depression as a black dog; I think of mine as a grey cloud. It comes, it will linger, but it will always leave.

I've found some amazing coping mechanisms. Something that very unexpectedly helped – and I can sense some of you about to roll your eyes – was Twitter. It was an odd thing at first, being witness to thousands of other people’s mental illnesses, but it’s actually an amazing support network. I've had conversations with people I will likely never meet about their own experience with depression, and it’s been unimaginably helpful. It was through Twitter that I learned about self care in a mental capacity, too. Self care refers to any of the little things I do to stop it from all being too much.

Before I was diagnosed, when I would feel the grey cloud starting to appear, I would take myself off to Heathrow airport and watch the planes leave. I would spend time under the bed, keeping myself to myself. I recently bought myself a 5 year diary, and I write a line a day about what I've done. It helps. Last summer, when I was feeling particularly lonely, I would go and sit on a bench by Hammersmith Bridge and listen to Zero 7. Sometimes I take my lovely boyfriend and cocoon the both of us for a while. He lets me, because he’s the best. It helps. A few weeks ago, I left Facebook.

* * *

Facebook was a funny one. I love it, usually – I like to hear what you’re all getting up to, and I'm the rare breed of person who enjoys the countless baby updates from new parents. I also feed off likes; they give me an almost scary sense of self-satisfaction. I have said something funny. People like this, so they like me.

Of late though, I had enough. I read some things I didn't like – I found out some people I thought were friends were harbouring some really bigoted views, and that was too much.

In the wider world, I'm used to feeling like The Other. As a black person, a black woman, I can be made to feel inferior or stupid at times, and though I hate it, I can cope with it. I didn't think those feelings would ever come from people I’d like to consider friends.

When the grey cloud appears, I can convince myself that I am worthless, that my opinions are meaningless, and worst of all that I'm the reason other people are uncomfortable. I started to worry if it was a problem with me – that my blackness and my Otherness had made these people think that way. My rational self knows this isn't true. But hey! Turns out most of the time, Depressed Me just isn't that rational.

A few weeks ago, someone posted something racist. I started to feel terrible about it, and then I decided I didn't need it any more. I didn't need to see this every day from people I knew and liked. So I left. And fuck, I feel so much better.

I'll probably be back at some point in the near future, photos of all of you are too much to resist.

* * *

The final thing I want to do is apologise.

To anyone I have flaked out on, and given a bullshit excuse for – I'm sorry. Sometimes I genuinely am just flaky, but now and again, it’s because I can’t. Thank you for understanding.

To my dearest friends that I have occasionally been awful to – I'm so sorry. Thank you for sticking with me, I appreciate it so very much.

To my family, for not telling you sooner – I wasn't ready. But I am now. I love you.

* * *

“I think you have depression.”

I know.

And now you know, too.

Thank you. xx