From YKN

I've still got that dog in me

I've been described quite a few times now as a purple minion. For those of you who have seen the Despicable Me franchise, you know what I mean. Chaotic and crazy, and - although they're evil - full of life!!
Whenever I tell this to the people in my life, I get the same response.
"I hadn't thought about it before, but... Wait... Yeah!!"
Thinking about it now, I'm surprised.
The last year or two have been really tough for me. As time has gone on, I've felt more and more hollow, and empty, just a little ball of stress rolling from lecture to lecture, class to class. And from the stress came something else, some sort of sad... numbness.
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm never happy. When I'm doing things, I'm happy. When I'm with my friends, I'm happy. But... when I'm alone, walking between places, lying in bed at night... it's like there's something gnawing at me.
I'll be honest, my degree hasn't been going great. During my first year, I had a panic attack during one of my exams and was out of it for half of the time. It's honestly a miracle I passed. The poor invigilators even let me call my Dad, sobbing over the phone. My second year exams were no better. I was having constant panic attacks during the lead up to them, barely saw my friends. The night before one of my exams, I even tried to contact 3 mental health hotlines. I waited for hours. None of them picked up.
Things were escalating, and fast, and 'powering through' wasn't doing my academics any favours. I went to my GP and it turns out I had generalised anxiety disorder, or GAD, and got some prophylactic medication for it. I also restarted talk therapy with a lovely professor at my university.
I came back to university last autumn for my final year, and the winter term did something to me that I had never experienced before. I'd had 'the sads' before, as I called them. (I now know them to be depressive episodes, whoops?) In the past, I'd not showered for days, sometimes weeks, worn the same clothes constantly, barely eaten or overeaten, stuff like that.
This was a whole different game. I'd been dealing with suicidal thoughts for a year or so, and I'd thought that I had a handle on it. I did not. I was not prepared to have them almost every day before going to bed, when I was alone, when I was in classes. I started listening to youtube videos constantly, just so I wouldn't have to be alone with my thoughts. Still, they crept in. I remember sitting, catatonic, in my room, my partner trying to help me the best he could.
I don't think I actually wanted to kill myself. I think it was just... the only way out I saw. I was destined to fail, let down my family, my friends, my partner, myself. How could I live with myself if I did? I genuinely didn't think I could or would live a happy life.
Needless to say, things were getting bad. I thought that when I went home for the holidays, it would go away, but it didn't.
I ended up speaking to my GP about it, who prescribed me a month's worth of antidepressants. The initial side effects were awful, and there were a couple of days when I was too nauseous to stand, or move. I was sleeping for 12 hours a day, eating a meal a day, and the depressive symptoms got a lot worse.
At my worst point, I couldn't hold a conversation, couldn't smile, just laid in bed all day thinking about killing myself. That lasted for about a week.
But, I still had work to do. I cranked out a shitty report, but I let my professors know I couldn't hand in the other work, as I was too sick. I met with them on the first day of term, and they suggested I self-suspend for medical circumstances due to the state of my mental health, and come back in the autumn the following year.
Initially, of course, I was upset. What would my parents say? What would my friends think? I was a failure. I had tried to push through and look where it had gotten me. I was a mess.
But slowly, slowly, something else began to creep in. Relief.
I could have a break, relax. Recover. I'd been in a constant state of stress for two years, and a long, un-pressured break sounded like a fairytale.
Two weeks later, a month into my antidepressant run, I did it. That was yesterday.
I can honestly say, I haven't felt this hopeful for the imminent future for so long. I haven't felt so excited in forever. I'm so excited to get back to writing, to art, to joy, to a rest. I have so many ideas bouncing around in my head.
It feels like the rot is being sapped out of the fig tree. Like one by one, the blackened, shrivelled figs are plumping, gaining colour and life again.
And I think people are noticing. I've been told I seem markably happier, less exhausted, calmer.
And, you know what? I feel fucking incredible.
I want to use this blog to track all the crazy, fun, wonderful things I get up to in this break.
The dog in me has been sleeping, but she is back.

From YKN
06.04.2026