A Return to Writing

It’s been a few years since I last had the thought to write again. Life reached a point where I needed to return to something I knew once helped me make sense of things. October 2023 marked three years since my last blog post — a post where I began to explain just one of the many health conditions I live with. 

Three years later, a removed bowel, a liver transplant behind me, and the possibility of another diagnosis ahead, it’s clear that these experiences have taken a significant toll on me — both physically and mentally. Without fully realising it at the time, the trauma and hurt I’ve been carrying have led to an overwhelming cycle of on-and-off depression over the last two years. 

There are many things I’ve been able to achieve in my 29 years on this planet. But feeling loved — and having genuine love for myself — are not among them. 

My name is Keiran “Mandell” McPherson. Some of you know me as “Keekz.” At the age of 15, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. I was told my immune system was attacking my liver and bowel — two incredibly vital organs. 

In December 2019, I underwent a liver transplant after the increasing damage reached a point where it was the only viable solution. Then, in May 2024, I had a large part of my bowel removed after further damage caused by the same condition. This resulted in me needing a stoma bag — something I’ve felt deep embarrassment about since learning I would need one. 

2024 was a year of contradiction. In many ways, it felt like life was beginning to come together, despite the life-changing surgery I had undergone. At the same time, it marked the beginning of the worst period of depression I have experienced. I’ve always lived with depression in some form, but I believed I managed it well — or at least, in my own way. 

What I understand now is that I wasn’t managing it at all. I was pushing emotions aside, masking pain with personality, and avoiding my problems instead of facing them head-on. 

Over the past two years, this has left me living in a near-constant state of frustration and resentment — towards people, situations, and myself. Fourteen of my 29 years have been spent unwell, and I’ve come to realise that throughout that time, I never truly allowed myself to acknowledge the depth of pain and struggle I was experiencing. 

I’ve always believed that my life is, in many ways, far better than that of many people in this world — and ultimately, that’s true. But I’m learning that this doesn’t invalidate my own pain. My struggles still matter. 

Despite being surrounded by people, I’ve often felt deeply alone. The friends and family in my life may never fully understand my thoughts and feelings, largely because I’ve never truly shared them. Being the person others come to for advice — the reliable one, the strong one — has slowly led me to a place of exhaustion, frustration, and resentment. 

As humans, we try to be unselfish, but it’s in our nature to forget what others may be carrying. Recently, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to keep showing up for people in the way they expect me to. Being relied on while I am already hurting has been overwhelming, triggering stress and anxiety. I am usually the person others can count on — but right now, I can’t be that person. The lack of consideration for that reality has only deepened my resentment. 

Turning 29 became another turning point. I think it’s natural to compare ourselves to our peers, even though we know it’s unhealthy. I feel lost, alone, and depressed, while others appear happy, settled, and healthy — things I don’t currently feel. For a long time, I masked these emotions with moments of “enjoyment,” but in truth, it was little more than a plaster over something that needed far deeper attention. 

I’ve been quietly spiralling. And now I’ve reached a point where I need to stop, stand still, and acknowledge everything. 

My name is Keiran “Mandell” McPherson — some of you know me as Keekz — and I need help. I need to learn how to live with this illness rather than simply survive through it. 

This is me choosing to rewrite my future — to live for myself rather than for others. To prioritise healing, honesty, and growth. To make space for healthier choices, healthier boundaries, and distance from anything or anyone that no longer serves my wellbeing. 

This is not an ending — it’s a beginning.