My Family

Image credit: Ashling Larkin

My father drives around in his van with at least two teddy bears, the men at the tip don’t quite know what to think of him but I love his eccentricities.

My brother is an intern at a very well-known company, travelling around the country for work and learning on the job. He still comes home every weekend without fail.

My mother… well, I can’t talk about her without gushing. She’s the softest, kindest, doeseverythingintheworldandmoreforherfamily-est person that ever walked the earth and on top of all that she volunteers for a mental health charity!

We’re a unit of four, tight knit to the point of shutting ourselves off to the rest of the world sometimes (something we’re working on…).

Why then, do I struggle to get up in the morning? Why is my space a mess to the point of it disgusting even myself? Why am I depressed?

If you were to look at the three people I am surrounded by, and have been surrounded by my whole life, all logical signs would point to ‘should not be depressed in the slightest’!

Depression isn’t logical though.

Those brain chemicals still manage to get messed up, even with a support system of the highest calibre!

I suppose what I’m trying to say is, I feel guilty. I feel exceedingly guilty for the way my brain works and for all the times my long-suffering family have had to deal with me at my worst.

It’s been a process.

They’ve worked very hard, it’s not always easy to understand why your daughter is crying on the kitchen floor and pulling her hair out because deciding what to eat is too much. It’s hard to wrap your head around why she would repeatedly press a lighter into her forearm after an argument with a friend. When she seems to have lost all interest in everything, acts like she hates you and gets sent home from work looking like a zombie… I’d imagine they worked harder than I’ve previously given them credit for.

This is me acknowledging that I am lucky. I am so, so lucky.

My family are so, so wonderful and have taken me to the doctors, counselling, supported me through getting proper medication and kept my head above water. I have perhaps taken them for granted in the past and now the guilt is catching up to me.

However, if you are in a similar position to me… I would advise against guilt. The way your brain works is not something you can control. Please do not feel guilty for accepting help if you need it! Know your situation by all means, but do not demean your own condition to the point of it becoming detrimental to your recovery.

I have, at times, let my guilt for causing my family pain to pull me lower.

They have never demanded my guilt, though. And when I have expressed this to them, they have actively told me they do not want me feeling this way. It does nothing for them, for me or for anyone else with or without the kind of support I have.

So this is a thank you to my family, an acknowledgment of sheer luck and a plea to you to not feel guilty when accepting help.

Sometimes accepting help is the most badass thing you can do.

Naomi (“Just call me Nim!”) is a 22-year-old Bournemouth-based performer, soon to be an actor-in-training in London. She has always loved writing but has never tried to get any of her writing seen before!

Ashling is a Brazilian-Irish, Scotland-based comic artist, illustrator and animator. As Art Director, she communicates with artists and photographers who would like to contribute to Fearless Femme, creates the imagery to suit our branding, and also creates artwork to go alongside written pieces for the magazine. As her main specialism is comics, you’ll also find some of her original comic work on our website & digital magazine! You can contact her at ashling@fearlessly.co.uk.