Like everyone suffering from a mental health issue, it had to start somewhere.
For me it's debatable. I was first aware of it at 17, during an apprenticeship into my first job.
Until then I wasn't very aware of illnesses like depression. Being friends with the vast majority being of the goth and emo variety there were many claiming to be depressed but there was no way of knowing if this was illness or a phase. Yet this was the only reference to this invisible illness I had.
Thinking back I think "was the fact I slept A LOT the first signs?" but I know now that every teenager sleeps all the time. They're like bears, or sloths.
So the first moment I noticed anything was wrong was in the middle of a work week, heading from one building to visit my manager and having the instant urge to hide behind a wall and weep.
It was the most baffling thing as I was never one to cry at anything, let alone what seemed like nothing.
In the coming weeks the feeling of absolute dread, that I'm sure all with depression can relate to, began to sink in. Ultimately resulting in myself waking from a dark hole filled daze, sitting on the floor of my bedroom, holding a knife to my wrist wanting this feeling to stop.
Luckily I came to a "what the hell are you doing?!" realisation before I did anything stupid. I realise today the distraction "benefits" of self harm but at the end of the day it's still and unhealthy method and specifically avoid it.
From that self harm near miss I did the sensible thing and sought out professional help from my doctor.
And screwed it up by making the biggest mistake I made for my mental health: turning down prescription medicine.
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