Please note this story references suicide and self harm
Going to work every day when you've been thinking of suicide and cutting yourself the night before is strange. People asking how you are. Wanting to tell them, wanting to give them a reason why you've been so scatty and struggled to remember things. It gives me a sense of shame not feeling like I'm fully excelling at work because it is my near only form of social interaction and that is how they will be judging me - through my performance at work. The two owners of the hotel are in their late 50's to 60's - they are from a generation that probably didn't encourage talking about mental health. I am scared they won't understand so I haven't told them I'm struggling with depression.
I don't actually want to kill myself. I'm happy to be alive, underneath it all. I am going to college after the summer to study pharmacy services, I can't wait! After 2 failed attempts at higher education because of depression mainly, I feel optimistic about this time. I have taken the responsibility to tell the college about my struggles with mental health so I can access the help before things start to inevitably decline. But this murderously low mood stops all happiness in its tracks when it strikes me and I am sent on a downward spiral to oblivion.
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