So you think you know me?

Well, this is odd.

If you'd have told me that today I would wake up and feel compelled to write what I'm about to write then I would have laughed in your face and asked if you knew me at all.

But that's it.  That's the thing.  My blog is in its fourth year now and the very fact that you think you know me (or think you have a good idea about me) is why I feel I should write this post.

I blog about my beads, random life things, my obsession with all things red, white and polka dotty, my love for chocolate and my gardening plans (still no further forward there) and you all leave lovely comments, send me wonderful emails and some of you brilliant people even post me birthday cards and occasional gifts because you feel as if you know me.

But I sometimes feel guilty because most of you don't know me.  Not properly.  Because I have kept something about me quiet.  Well, not quiet but I've kept it to myself.

I'm not intentionally bigging up the reveal.  I'm not a nudist or a trainspotter and I don't collect unicorns.  But there is a thing about me that not many people know.  Some of my family and friends don't even know.

Here goes.

I suffer from depression.

There.  I said it.

Hang on, don't go away.  Don't sigh to yourself 'Oh, bloody hell, not depression.  I'm off to check Facebook and read less ... well ... less depressing stuff.'  Don't do that.  Please stay here and let me explain further.

I've always tried to keep my blog jolly.  I like it to be a place that you come to, look at the pretty beads, read the random things I've written, leave a comment (I like comments) and then go about the rest of your day.  I hate reading blogs that are more whinge, moan, misery, blah, anger, rant and bad mood than anything else.  They're boring.

But as I said at the start, for some odd reason today I feel compelled to tell you about me and my crazy brain.

I've got standard clinical depression.  I'm not bipolar.  I'm not so down that I've ever thought about, let alone tried, doing anything silly.  I'm not on a cocktail of mind-numbing drugs.  I don't sit here crying all the time.  But my depression does affect me.  And my work.

I was diagnosed and started on the antidepressants (I hate writing that word) about six years ago but I strongly believe that it all goes back further than that.  Possibly to when I was in my early teens.  Mum used to say I was 'moody' and 'emotional' and yes, yes I really am.  Isn't everyone?  But my moodiness and emotionalness have always been a little bit extreme.

I also have (and I expect this will come as zero surprise) a degree of OCD.  Chris finds the fact that I will get upset to the point of tears about the fact that the house needs hoovering and it needs hoovering RIGHT NOW a little baffling and probably slightly disturbing.  Now, I'm not saying that I wash my hands seventeen times an hour and have to have every surface sparkling clean and that I will Mr Muscle the worktop after every cup of tea I make (heck, you should see my shed - it's proper untidy) but I can suddenly flip out about the washing up or the compost caddy.  I think Chris is slowly getting used to it, though.  Bless him.

So what's wrong with my brain?  Something to do with serotonin levels.  I don't know exactly - it's scientific and if I'm honest when I see my doctor and she starts getting all technical I kind of zone out and start studying the pen collection on her desk.  But I get the gist that my serotonin levels are a bit out of whack.  I take a tablet each day to try and sort that out (Fluoxetine, in case you're interested) and most of the time it works.  I'm three and a half months into my current six month course of tablets and then I will go back and see the doctor, she'll ask me how I'm doing, I'll say 'Great, thanks!' she'll tell me to slowly come off the tablets, offer me some counselling, suggest some CBT (and I refuse both and please don't tell me how good it is because I know it's just not my thing) and recommend a self-help book with a patronising title like 'Your Brain : It's Not Broken, It's Just Different' and I'll skip off happy thinking 'Yay!  I'm normal again!'  Then about six months down the line I'll get the warning signs that my brain's off on one again and I'll become the moodiest, snappiest, most horrible version of myself.  I'll find it harder to get out of bed in the mornings, even harder to get motivated, become totally withdrawn and before long I'll be sat there crying and/or staring into space thinking about nothing. I'll do that for a couple of weeks and then I'll admit that maybe I need the tablets again and it's off to the doctor where she'll make me answer a set of standard nosey have-you-thought-bad-thoughts-and-if-so-how-often questions, offer me some counselling, suggest some CBT and recommend a self-help book with a patronising title like 'Depression : It's Alright, You're Not Going Mad' and I'll mope off with a prescription for The Tablets.  I'll start taking them, feel instantly happier because I'm doing something about The Depression, suffer ridiculous headaches that even make my teeth and hair ache for two weeks and then my serotonin levels will even out and I'll feel normal once more.  And then the whole cycle will begin again.

You see, I strongly believe that all health things and a lot of general life things go in circles.  I know it's a bit hippyish and new age but that's just what I think.

Right now I'm in the middle of my course of tablets and things are good.  I'm working long hours with no troubles, I'm blogging regularly again, I'm interacting with people (albeit in a virtual Twitter sense) and right now there are two dirty mugs on the table and I'm not freaking out about it.

So that's that.  I think now you know pretty much all there is to know about me.  While we're at it (and I'm aware that this could lose me a couple of followers if the depression stuff didn't already) here are a few more Laura facts for you :

• I hate olives.
• I am an atheist.  I don't believe in any kind of God.
• I don't read a newspaper.
• I refuse to rinse out Marmite jars before recycling them.
• I fancy David Mitchell.
• I'm irritated by youths who play music OUT LOUD on their mobiles.
• I swear.  A lot.  But hardly ever on my blog or in tweets.

Yep.  I think I can now go about my everyday business without that nagging feeling that I'm keeping something from you.

I do apologise for starting the week off with a 'misery blog' but I tell you, I do feel a lot better now I've got that off my chest.  I hope that any friends or family who are reading this now have a better understanding of me too.

If you've read this far, thank you.  It's much appreciated.  Normal blog service will be resumed shortly.

There, you can trot off to Facebook now.

Happy Monday!