*TRIGGER WARNING: Depression, anxiety*

Picture this:

It's the final round of Masterchef. There is one minute left of the final challenge. The two remaining chefs are scrambling around their kitchen, furiously tossing spices and sauces over their dishes. Beads of sweat emanate from their foreheads, and their eyelashes are damp with tears. As they plate up their dishes, the judges already begin  to one another. Youstrengths andhe edge of your seat, your knuckles white from clutching the TV remote so tightly. "Who is gonna make it? Who's dish will be better? What will the final decision be? Who will win?"

That is how I have felt my whole life.

My first memory of being stressed to the point of tears was when I was nine years old. Our teacher was on maternity leave, and our substitute teacher was not familiar with the school rules, classroom regulations, or our test schedules. She did not know how to keep us under control, or that we were scheduled to have a spelling test that Friday. The whole situation made me feel sick. I went home that day barely able to string two thoughts together because I was so stressed. Not for me, but for the substitute teacher. I felt the overwhelming urge to sit her down, and explain everything about the school to her. Break times, our timetable, who sat where, who was friends with who.

I have always been that kind of person. If someone doesn't understand something, I will sit with them and explain it to them until they understand it. I would rather leave my work till the last minute and help someone who can't do theirs, than finish my work and leave that someone floundering in the deep end. That isn't me. I can't sleep at night knowing that I could've done better. Tried harder. Been more mature.

I place an insurmountable pressure on myself to do well at school. School and being a diligent student takes up most of my mental space. I think about nothing else other than how I can be the best in any given area. Some say this is a good thing, and it helps you compete and make yourself known. I guess it all depends on the type of person you are, and how well you know your strengths and weaknesses, coupled with how you handle stress. 

I started becoming obsessed with how others saw me. People would often say to me, "You're always happy" or "You're always smiling" or "You never get angry". Now, any normal human being has a combination of happy days, sad days, and angry days. But, not in Sarah-Kate's case. Oh no. Sarah-Kate is never unhappy. Sarah-Kate never cries. Sarah-Kate never gets angry. She is a cool, happy-go-lucky, hard-working girl. She doesn't have any problems of her own. Heck, I've never heard her complain about a single thing!

Because of comments like these, which I took in my stride at the time, I started placing a lot of how I saw myself in other people, and my self-esteem deteriorated. If I could put it visually, it would be like looking in a mirror, but instead of acknowledging your own reflection, asking someone else what they see. As a result of this, I started striving for perfection. I felt that if I made any mistakes, it would ruin the image people had of me. 

I worked myself to the point of a breakdown. I remember my hands shaking on the car rides to school, because I knew how hard I would have to work, and how I couldn't let anyone see that I hadn't slept the night before. I remember crying on the car rides home, because I was overwhelmed by the amount of work I had to do, and let the tears flow that I'd been holding in all day. I remember crying at night, not wanting to go to sleep. I knew that when I opened my eyes, the vicious cycle would run its course all over again.

As I've mentioned in Red Velvets and Panic Attacks, my panic attacks became worse. I started dreading coming to school. I privately researched home-schooling options, thinking that this would ease the stress. As much as I wanted to leave school, I knew that I wanted to have a leadership position in my Matric year. That meant the world to me at the time. So, I suppressed my manifesting anxiety, and continued pushing myself to work hard, and prove my diligence.

I started getting tired very easily. I became burned out quickly, and became socially withdrawn. When  I went to school to write exams, I would hide in the bathroom before the exam, and dash out of the venue straight after the exam. I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want to acknowledge that what I was feeling was real. I couldn't let anyone see that I was vulnerable. Because Sarah-Kate doesn't have any problems. She is a hard-working, studious girl. I thought by pushing on, I was being strong, and it would only get easier, if I just kept pushing and pushing. I realise now that instead of pushing myself upwards, I was spiralling downwards.

We are six months into 2015, and I have been feeling significantly depressed. Depression is like living with a monster. It is like my head and body are empty vessels through which this evil spirit preaches its gospel. It's a numbing feeling. My fingertips are raw, and my mouth is dry. My head hurts, and silence is deafening. I feel like I can't breathe. I'm stuck under a frozen lake, while everyone is skating above me. Or maybe, I'm the ice. Cold and lifeless. I want to buy a big, empty house in the middle of a cold forest. I won't fill it with any furniture. I just want to lie on the stone cold floor, and hear nothing. See nothing. Feel nothing. I'm tired of holding on. I don't know what I'm holding on for. Nothing matters. I don't matter. I could disappear. I want people to let me go. I don't feel safe at night. Everything shouts at me. My body is too big, so I can't hide. I can't run, because I'm too tired. I can't stay, but I have no where to go. I want to scream, but I have no voice left. I have been armed for this battle, and I've been left to fight alone. I want nothing inside me. I want to be empty. I want to look empty. I don't want people to care about me. I don't deserve it. I've made so many mistakes. I feel like this is punishment for all of the mistakes I've made. I've been such a stupid stupid girl. I'm not okay, and I am not going to be okay. I want to surrender to everything. I want to sleep and not wake up. I hate these feelings. I want to be locked in a tower. I want to be alone. But at the same time, I'm terrified of what I'll do to myself if I'm alone. I want to cry until I dissolve. I want to pull at myself until my seams split apart. I want to run and run and run. I want to do so many things. But all the while, a voice inside my head is singing a soft lullaby you can't do this, you can't do this, you can't do this, you can't do this.