The Year I Wasn't There
In December 2017 I had a total breakdown, with panic attacks and subsequent agoraphobia. I eventually was diagnosed with clinical depression and medicated.
2018 is a total blur for me, I spent most of it grappling with my mental health and finding the right medication by trial and error.
Most of the time I felt my body was a blob totally empty of any vital energy and the only place I felt safe in was the bed. If I count the hours I spent lying down they far surpass the ones standing upright.
Depression is an odd beast to tackle, one of its most deceiving aspects being the seductive siren-call towards its dark hole of despair.
At times I felt really attached to my hopelessness, as if some part of myself was enamoured of this floating state of non-existence, a sort of getting back into the womb, albeit of course not as pleasant.
I found quite hard to resist the wicked lure of letting myself go and slide down this limbo and this fatal attraction led me to often forgetting my meds, unconsciously sabotaging my process of recovery.
This series attempts to represent that year, when I wasn't really there.
Kicca Tommasi, Italy, Roma
