Being broken

Not a single word have I written down in… I don’t even know how long it’s been now. A month and a half? Two months? Not that nothing has been going on. Too much has been going on and I guess I have been afraid. Afraid that once I started pouring out words, my heart would start pouring too.
I am usually pretty good at dealing with feelings. I need to feel it deep down and for a long time and then I know when I am ready to let it go and move on. This time my actions have been more run and hide than dealing with anything.
But who the f*** knows how to react when somebody that’s supposed to know their business tell you, you are suffering from a depression caused by anxiety?

It felt like a slap in the face. In slowmotion.
I knew it was happening.

Since then I have been troubled with a work injury (crushed finger in a door), insurance hell, recovery, therapy, a broken relationship and fleeing the country I have been living in for the past year and a half.

This means I’m back in Denmark. In my childhood home. Trying to stay optimistic. This is my new beginning. Living in Australia was very much like a dream, but in the end it became too hard. At some point I couldn’t fight for it anymore and that’s how the signs of depression started.
I needed change in my life. I have that now. And I don’t know how I feel about it.

Yes, I dearly apologize for this not so happy post. Part of me dealing with stuff is getting it out through my fingers into words in front of me. It helps me understand things.

Many of these things are now in the past. And I am striving to only look forward. I am also trying to accept that the past still leave some scars on you. Some of them may fade in time, some might not. Hopefully this new beginning will make some things seem more distant. One can only hope.

I know I will be okay. I just need to force myself to feel this through.