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Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

My home life as a child was never perfect, but what person had a perfect home life? There’s no such thing as a perfect childhood. As an adult, when Christmas time rolls around I don’t think much of it; I make an effort to avoid getting caught up in the festivities because I’m not too fond of Christmas now that I’m all grown up. I don’t hate it, but, certainly, I wouldn’t say I like it.

As an adult, Christmas time reminds me that my parents are divorced, and most of my family lives far away in separate locations. When the day comes around, I genuinely feel out of place no matter where I go for the holiday. But don’t think for a second that my life is terrible because it’s not. My life is great. Obvisouly every life has its ups and downs. …

But it’s not because I’m lazy, I lack motivation.

I can be lazy now and then — I might wait until the morning to put the dishes away or wash them two hours after dinner instead of right away. But when does ‘laziness’ become a noticeable issue? For me it was when 1.5 months of laundry had piled up onto the couch. I couldn’t find my clean clothes among the pile of dirty ones.

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Photo by mohsen shenavari on Unsplash

Laziness can often be seen as someone being just that — lazy. But what if something else was going on? For someone such as myself who suffers from major depression just like millions of others around the world, it’s normal to let the house become a mess for weeks on end. My mother would call it a pigsty rather than a mess, though. …

And I still wore it every day.

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Photo by Ilyas Bolatov on Unsplash

When I was 12 years old, my older sister passed down one of her shirts to me. She no longer wanted it, and when I was young, I wanted to be just like her, so I accepted it with excitement because I was always trying to find excuses to wear her stuff.
It was a pale yellow color, with a pink quote in the chest area:

‘Boyfriends make good pets.’

Back then, 12-year-old me didn’t think much of the statement. My 14-year-old sister didn’t either. …

When women are controlling towards men and it gets overlooked as normal.

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Photo by mostafa meraji on Unsplash

My parents were married for 15 years. During those 15 years my dad’s hair was long. His hair went down to his waist at one stage. I never saw his hair short. It wasn’t until after their divorce when I was 18 that my dad finally cut his hair. I asked him, “why now? Why did you keep it long for all these years?” and he replied, “I only kept it long because your mother pleaded, and made me to keep it that way.”

Looking back on this memory today, it made me think, do other women do this? Because I knew from personal experience that men definitely did. A year before their divorce, my boyfriend at the time pushed me to dye my hair and even went to the hairdresser with me. So I knew that the roles in the situation could be reversed. It’s common to see men control women, but when it’s women controlling men, it’s often overlooked or unnoticed depending on the situation. …

It’s very important.

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Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

When I walk down the street, when I go to work, and even when I’m with my family or friends, I am surrounded by gays, bisexuals and transgender people, even someone who is asexual. Without thinking hard, it’s clear to see that the LGBTIQA makes up a huge part of the community. Even I am one of those people, and I’m proud of it.

You don’t have to look far to notice these people. They could be your neighbor, your sister, your best friend, and even that stranger you said good morning to on your way to get a coffee this morning. We aren’t suddenly coming out of nowhere, and we aren’t going anywhere. We are here to stay and the LGBTIQA have been around as long as humans first appeared. …

It’s important to remember a few things.

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Photo by Julian Florez on Unsplash

One meal that I never seem to get sick of — regardless of my depression taking the wheel or not — is curry. Whether I’m having a negative week mentally, or a positive one, curry is one thing that I haven’t lost interest with over the years when I’ve been severely depressed. But it’s not the same with other things that I like.

It may be obvious already, but in the beginning, I didn’t realize this:

1. It’s normal to find things you enjoy ‘boring’ if you’re depressed.

It’s a widespread symptom of depression, but of course, in the beginning, I didn’t know this. As the years went on, I learned.

One by one, my hobbies and other things that I enjoyed bored me. A lot of the time, I would sit around and do nothing. …

How I realized I was with the wrong person.

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Photo by Eleanor on Unsplash

I sat on the floor of the shower and cried. Being alone sucked, but feeling alone while in a relationship felt worse. “Why doesn’t he understand what I’m going through? He told me he had depression too,” I thought to myself as the water ran over my body and went down the drain.

It seemed like every time I needed my boyfriend, he wasn’t there. But when I made apparent cries for help (such as cutting my hair off and going to bed at 6 pm), he would say, “What’s wrong with you? You always do this.” …

To me it seems like a double standard against women.

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Photo by Zulmaury Saavedra on Unsplash

The world of Instagram has become very popular over the last few years. It’s what most of my friends use to post their pictures and updates. We all have Facebook, but I’ve only kept it to keep in contact with people who haven’t given me a phone number. Facebook would not be my ‘go-to’ social media if I had to pick one. My go-to would be Instagram because it’s easy to use, and it’s mainly about pictures.

Instagram is an easy place to express yourself. As women, after all, we have endured during history by being second best to men, we are still being told to ‘cover-up’ our bodies. In contrast, men don’t have to, there is something very empowering about sharing sexy pictures of yourself. Especially when you’re feeling your best and trying to share that sexy, body positivity. …

It’s in my head too, but it’s scary and it’s real.

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Photo by Grace Madeline on Unsplash

What is depression?

It’s not a simple answer, no matter who you ask. Every person will have a different answer, and the depth of their response depends on their willingness to share it.

To me, the simple answer is that depression is a fucking monster inside my head, and I can’t seem to get rid of it. Just like my childhood monster, it’s invisible. But unlike my childhood monster, this is real.

Depression is a monster waiting in my room at night.

It’s waiting until I’m asleep to pop into my dreams and make them into nightmares. Depression whispers in my ear, “no one gives a fuck about you. …


Georgie lucy

Survivor of abuse | Supporter of feminism.

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