top of page
  • Writer's pictureBen Pechey

I don’t know what makes me Happy

I don’t know what makes me happy.

This seems like a strange sentence to start with, but I don’t, not really.

When my depression sits heavily over me, nothing seems to touch my sides when it comes to happiness. I feel that food tastes less intense, colours appear less vibrant, clothes are less comfy, and things feel empty like over baked choux pastry.

This is not really a post with any intent - other than for me to explore this feeling in my safe space; written & spoken content.

I find myself awake until half one in the morning.

I scroll eBay for hours for antique jewellery that I will never buy.

I cry when a pitch I wrote in 10 minutes is passed over.

I sit at my desk for hours - achieving nothing.

I hate myself as minute by minute I watch the day ebb away.

I look at my book sales and read bad reviews on Goodreads.

I see other people being successful and hate them, then hate myself for that.

I get distracted by anything other than my to-do list.

I remember too late to book that blood test.

I eat when I am not hungry.

I don’t do the tasks of the course I am currently doing.

I forget to eat when I am hungry.

I could do anything because I am in charge of my work - yet I chose to do nothing.

On days like this, I don’t what makes me happy - and it makes me so sad - because nothing can make me happy. I know you will have had moments, days, weeks, months like this. I want to share this to show you, that you’re not alone. Mental health is fucking brutal, it is not fair, and it isolates us. So here is me, trying to help in the small ways I can.

On days like this, there are things I try.

I seek contact with people I love.

I run errands that don’t feel impossible; I can post a vinted parcel, but not answer an email.

I drink tea.

I sit in different rooms - anywhere that isn't my office - the bed is great.

I shower if I haven’t and put clean clothes on.

I put my socks on the radiator.

I tidy spaces that feel cluttered - to try and clear a cluttered mind.

I nap.

I cry.

It won’t fix you, we’re not broken after all, but it might just tide you over until you get out of the darker spots your mind pushes you into.


bottom of page