The Boy Between: A Mother and Son's Journey From a World Gone Grey

by Josiah Hartley

Know that the world is better with you in it. It’s a shit hard struggle – probably the hardest you will ever face, but you can do it.

I was exhausted, and the thought of having to spend the rest of my days in this endless blank circle of desperation was one I was not prepared to contemplate.

The very colour of the world had turned down until only greyscale remained.

Day by day over an unknown period of time my emotions were chipped away piece by piece, subtly enough for me not to notice. I was an empty husk, devoid of emotion. I wasn’t sad anymore; I felt nothing. Being sad would have been an improvement; the ability to feel anything had been gone for quite some time.

It’s almost as if we can cope with something because we know that the situation won’t be forever – but what if it is?

Secrecy, stigma, taboo, shame and judgement are enablers of this horrible illness when what we actually need is to expose how common this issue really is and confirm to those suffering that they are not alone.

And while others express such joy at simply ‘being’ I stare at them and wonder if it’s just me who finds the whole process of living so very exhausting. And I question how they can avoid or deny the one truth: that none of us gets out of here alive.

The realisation that this has been my whole life is frustrating and upsetting. I would have thought that a) she’d have got it by now and b) I might have figured out a way to stop or alter this thought process, because in all honesty I’m bloody knackered.

Sleep is a powerful master and one to which I am entirely beholden.

Can you imagine living with a long-term illness that erodes all that makes you you and someone describing you as ‘a bit under the weather’?

Mental illness – it’s like the very worst thing to have to admit about your brain and equally hard to admit to others.

In the grip of my depression, I did not control my thoughts: my thoughts controlled me.

My bed was like a black hole, sucking me in. I didn’t feel like part of the world. I had gone beyond feeling isolated and lonely or even sad. I felt nothing.

It wasn’t so much that I couldn’t see a future, but more that I couldn’t even see a present.

When something is broken, by definition it doesn’t work! And depression is a brain that is broken. It is an illness. A fracture. A sickness. A malaise. And no one, no one on the face of the earth, no matter where or how they are born or what gifts they are born with or without, would choose to be depressed. Got it?

‘One swallow does not make a summer, neither does one fine day; similarly one day or brief time of happiness does not make a person entirely happy.’ Aristotle

It was what I did in any emergency, put the kettle on and made tea. It might not solve anything, but it was the distraction I needed to gather my thoughts.

The university culture in the UK in my experience is now one that is impersonal, an undergraduate sausage factory that takes the cash and neglects to learn about or invest in individuals.

University culture where each person is reduced to a candidate number and a set of grades makes it very hard to admit failure.