The Darkest Hour Never Comes In The Night

Written: 15/04/2018

I share this in light of Mental Health Awareness Week. I have found that with mental health that pretending to be okay whether you are or not can be the easiest and also hardest thing. Your health and wealth don’t determine your happiness, they may make it more cushy but you cannot buy happiness. Right now I’m taking each day at a time, listening to my mind about what I want in all aspects of my life and what is important to me. In a cruel but clear reality, I realised a long time ago that my best writing came when I felt the lowest within myself. I used to think that all I had to do to write a bestselling book was drink a significant amount of alcohol and tap into the deepest parts of me. I’ve yet to try it to confirm if that is the case. I’m sharing this because it’s raw, it’s honest, and because I haven’t published anything in a long time despite having an abundance of ideas.


Let me start by telling you that isn’t the story I thought I would write. Let me start by telling you that it hurts more than I ever imagined possible. Let me start by telling you that time isn’t making this easier for me.

It’s crazy, is it not, that of all the different grounds the soles of your feet will tread on, no two experiences can ever be exactly the same. What two different pairs of eyes look at won’t see the exactly the same thing. Therefore, it’s the same with heartbreak, betrayal and mental health.

To avoid tears in yet another public place, I shall not delve into the devil of the details of my recent woes, but I wish to metaphorically unclip the world from my shoulders, pull the knife out of my chest and the foot off my throat and breathe again. And for me, it is not only reading but also writing too that helps me to unload. I know the answers to many of my questions that I don’t want to face, but I can’t seem to find the key to the locket of my heartache. I don’t know how to go on, but that I will go on because I don’t have a choice to do anything else. Every time, every year I should probably say, that I feel that I’ve ended up in a situation/ I’m experiencing something a cut above anything else in terms of difficulty to soldier on through, life seems to add a new level to the game.

I thought I knew where my life was headed and somehow the rug has been pulled from under my feet and I’m swimming in the unknown. And it’s probably my own tears I’m swimming in. Perhaps I was the creator of my own fall. I thought I knew what heartbreak was before, but I now know that was definitely not heartbreak. It’s been weeks now and I still don’t feel any closer to “over it” than the day it happened. And it is almost another level of cruelty that nobody seems to empathise with your pain. How does someone tell you that you’re their soulmate, to then go to not wanting to be around you a moment longer in the blink of an eye? How can you dog ear the future with someone and then suddenly decide that your life would actually just be better altogether without them? You’re left wondering how what you perceived to be a bump in the road was actually the road to ruin. You’re left reading self-help articles online as to how you continue to wake up, go to work and go back to sleep each day willingly. How can you go through mountains of difficult situations with one person and then not be able to overcome a mole hole? You read that who you’ve become isn’t “the woman he fell for” and you know you let yourself be suffocated by invisible pressure to get to the top of a ladder that doesn’t actually have enough rings for you to yet reach the top. You know that you subconsciously used your comfort zone to mask the frustrations of your own life and now you’ve no choice but to take the bull by its horns, to face the elephant in the room and not keep making excuses for yourself.

I want to say “the first few days were the hardest” but they weren’t, they were just the ones with biggest quantities of tears. You’ve gone from playing pretend engagement at the jewellery shop to not being able to enter a cake shop after seeing wedding decor and realising in that moment that may never be you now.

And then when you’re taking the steps to turn your life around when you remember that life is to be lived and not just plainly endured, the one person you confided in turns on you with the snap of her fingers because you won’t succumb to her beliefs on a situation. She’s pegged all the dirty laundry high enough for it to be seen by everyone on the most public of washing lines. She used to support you, encourage you to believe in yourself and now she’s publicly calling you an unlovable poorly paid loser. She’s cut you off so she can’t receive the replies that you were never going to send because you were not going to bark back. She’s publicly disowned you for putting morals above money. It feels like whilst you were picking yourself up of the ground, she has intentionally come along and round-house kicked you in both your knee caps and made getting back up a near impossibility. You wonder what you did to deserve all this pain. The tarot cards keep telling you that ‘better things will evolve from the debris’ of your current situation, and that you have to let yourself grieve for what you’ve lost. Yet, it seems as though the world would like you to remove yourself from its existence. Surely karma is done with you now?

The tears stain your steering wheel, your face is red with the exertion of tears as you’ve spent your lunch break bent over your steering wheel sobbing your heart out whilst 3 Doors Down belt out ‘Here Without You.’ You’re so depressed that other people don’t want to do anything but pat you on the back. You reek of sadness and that is not a perfume in which others want to bask themselves. You can’t seem to call your best friend with anything positive to say, she’s thousands of miles away having to coax you out of a panic attack before you actually do choke on your sobs on a dark and deserted street. The stench of your sadness is overwhelming. They say that ‘tears don’t mean you’re losing’ , but no matter how many you shell out, you never feel like you’re winning or on a tie break either. People like to say that “you’ll meet someone else” but can’t seem to understand that the idea of actually being with someone else physically, mentally, emotionally repulses you enough to dig your own grave and lie in it. How do you ever trust someone who would go so far out of their way to hurt you? To willfully throw you under the bus, reverse back over you and rip out your jugular. She’s now verbalised that niggling devil on your shoulder, if she thinks that lowly of you, what does everyone else say behind your back?

They say that time heals all pain, but the clouds have never actually been so dark and dismal above my head. I know worse things happen to people, and in time even more dreadful things will happen to me, but sometimes it’s hard to escape the sound of your own madness rattling around your brain. To grieve for the dead is one thing, but to grieve for the living? That’s tough. The act of being able to be delete all photographic moments with you so fast like you never happened, like it was never them that pursued you and not the other way around really stings. Many ask “why do you care so much?” They say “how can you be so bothered by people who obviously aren’t bothered about you?” The doctor will not put you back on anti-depressants, being a strong believer that changing your job, increasing your exercise and spending more time outside will somehow help a broken heart.

Let me finish by saying that the darkest hour never comes in the night. Let me finish by saying that I keep flicking through this chapter to see the ending and the beginning of the next but it isn’t there to be found. Let me finish by saying that depression is a darkness experienced differently by every single soul. Maybe a silver lining will one day show up, but at the moment it is hard to see when it’ll appear.


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