Most people assume people my age don't get depression. Hell, they're even suprised when you get sick because they assume young people can take so much.
My first encounter with depression was at the tender age of 9, when boys started calling me "ugly". That continued to become worse, eventually being excluded for moat of the time except for five friends that occasionally stuck by me, but never defended me because they didn't know or understand what was going on. It didn't leave me until the age of 11, but left my mind scarred, filling up with self hatred and vicious images I still have to deal with today.
Crying yourself to sleep every night, not wanting to get out of bed the next morning-nothing to do with lazyness-or getting panic attacks were a daily routine for me.
Then I went to what I assume is middle school in the American system. Me being the hurt little girl I was, I didn't want most people getting close and was very defensive.
However, all ended well eventually and I ended up with a bunch of friends and in a happy place, happier than I'd almost ever been. It seems as if you only start to recognize the mental problems you've faced when you're in this state of bliss, because it was only now I realized the things I'd actually fought through.
I realized depression sticks to you when I relapsed last year.
To my luck, it wasn't as bad as most expect. A typical teenage problem had occurred; my best friend had started changing and I left her behind, it hurt too much to see her change into an entirely different person.
As if going through school wasn't enough, it felt like someone, a part of me, died. I got held back a year, but two weeks in that new year I decided I was unhappy, and rather went down a level. So I did, and I was in the same class as another best friend of mine, whom I'm pretty sure is the reason I'm currently able to type this from a reasonably happy perspective.
Apart from the panic attacks, the year kicked off nicely, leading to me having numerous friends and great experiences with them. I'd started off the year in a dark place, but I'll be ending it in what seems like an amazing time.
This year I learned the meaning of many things, but most of all I learned depression might reoccur, but you can battle it. I stayed strong, I grounded myself and prepared for the wave of self hatred, which ended in self love instead.
I taught myself that I might not love certain parts of me, but I could still love me as a whole. I could improve myself. I realised my worth and cut some people out of my life, that was all. So I started feeling happy, which I still am today.
Even though the events could be considered quite traumatic, and I'll never forget them, I'm okay. I'm doing okay. And that's what matters.
Feel free to share your story below, thanks for reading!