Depression makes me think that everybody is out to get me, it makes me believe that they want me to be anything but happy. Depression makes me think that I am louder and it makes me think that I am bigger. Always making too much noise and taking up too much space. It makes me feel like a nuisance, everywhere I am, I feel out of place. It makes me talent less, stupid and pathetic. Even things I am told I am good at, it makes me not want to do them at all. It’s my hell but it feels like home, I always want to be alone. It makes me fear any future and dread growing old. In the heat of summer it can make you feel cold, it’s like being forced to live with someone I cannot stand. It doesn’t quietly hum in the background of my mind, it leaves at the forefront screaming its demands. It makes sadness and self-doubt as constant as the breath I take. It’s a heavy weight of negativity that I can never ever shake.
It’s forcing myself to make conversations with family, friends and even cashiers. Trying to smile and be polite while constantly on the verge of tears. It makes my memory all but completely disappear, things I usually looks forward to turn into things I fear. It makes easy tasks feel like a chore, trying to eat breakfast or just get dressed turn into feeling like a failure and curling up on the floor, sometimes my biggest accomplishment for a week, a day or just a night is laying in the comfort of my bed, actively trying to not want to die.
My mother pulled me out of this box, she held me so tight the night she learnt that I spent the last four years trying to come up with ways to die and each time my son’s smile, laughter, hugs will save me. I was so low that I could not even look at myself in the mirror. I was diagnosed with low blood, cysts and finally clinical depression. I took medication, I gained 10kg and I just disappeared. I was afraid to meet people, to meet friends and will change last minute, I was just too scared to being judged for my weight as it was always the first thing they saw. Each time someone mentioned how fat I was this made me feel worthless, it made me want to end my life every single day. I took depression medication for a year, this made me feel worse. I wanted to run away each day, I wanted to hide in dark places even on a sunny day, I wanted to kill myself, and I felt like a burden to everyone. I lost a lot of friends, this made me feel worse again. I cannot begin to tell you the amount of tears I shed every single night, the sadness I felt every single day. People do not have time to help anyone who is going through this while their lives are all rosy and beautiful, they feel like they will be wasting their time, they even feel like you are jealous of how great they are doing so they drop you without thinking twice. My family tried everything they could to pull me out of this. The most commonly asked question each time someone learns about my depression is how you got through it, how you wanted to stay alive.
Recovery isn’t immediate, it’s anything but neat, and you do not take a pill, go for a jog and wake up complete. I am not what you’d call “better” but I am not doing so badly. I am still a happy person but I just get really sad. Healing isn’t linear, it doesn’t work that way. Its messy, it’s ugly and it’s tedious and I just pray someday I will be okay. My mom, dad and siblings are all a huge source of love and support to both myself and my beautiful son. I still avoid telling people, talking about is still really hard. But keeping it together doesn’t make you any better, It takes guts to fall apart, it’s not a phase or mood swing, it’s a serious illness. I had to learn that sink in before starting the long, healing process. I’m glad I stuck around for the days that are good and the ones that aren’t too. Some nights I go to bed happy and fulfilled. But some days, still, I barely manage to get through. I wish that happiness was as permanent as my scars. But they are proof that I will get through it, like I have done in the past, they remind me how much I am healing. While I am still trying to nurture and piece together my broken parts and breathe through the times I feel like I am suffocated. Survive through the moments that I wish I was dead, get back up after wilting like flowers in a garden bed and grow from the same parts of me that I once bled.
Thankful for a wonderful family, for my beautiful son and the few friends who have tried to hold my hand through this difficult time. Thankful for a very present partner, who experiences all this and still wants to be with me. It was difficult trying to put in words how painful this is but I hope you know that you are not alone and that it will get better. Stay Strong.