Society & Politics

My Deal With The Hand Of Depression

My Deal With The Hand Of Depression


Depression is something that can happen to anyone. And a few years ago it happened to me. I never expected it, but it knocked on my door and I felt there was nothing I could do. And now I've decided to share my story with you, just so you know that you're not alone.


When I was about eleven I was entering middle school for my first year ever. It was intimidating, sure, but the thing that bothered me most was that I was completely friendless. My best friend had just moved to an exclusive school for the arts, and my other best friend hated my guts. The only person I had was my cousin, who really had no other friends either.


The first quarter of school was a sucky blur. I sat at whatever table, didn't talk to anyone, and just tried to do my best in class. When I would go home I'd go straight up to my room and lay in bed with my door locked. Before I knew it that's how everyday would go, and most of the time all I'd do was stare at the ceiling for hours. I ignored almost everyone who talked to me, or at least tried. I wasn't getting along with my parents, my friends, my siblings, not even my cousin. I never raised my hand in class and participated like I'd used to. Some days I wouldn't eat at all because I felt like I deserved to die.


One day my mother took me to the doctor's because she thought I had Mano. The doctor knew that wasn't the case, and my doctor told my mom to be on the lookout for depression. So she did. My mother asked me several times if I was depressed or if I felt sad but I always shut that answer down with an immediate "no". I didn't want people to know that I was some emo.


In middle school people stereotype depressed people as people who want to kill themselves and people who are good for nothing, so I didn't want to admit anything to anyone. Everytime I looked in the mirror I wanted to repeatedly stab myself in the gut. I didn't know why I felt this way, I just did. I couldn't help my feelings, but I never told anyone.


Eventually, though, I made friends. We were one colorful bunch, that's for sure. Some of my "friends" weren't really my friends though. One of the girls was missing for an entire week. She wasn't really my friend. She was mean to me, and well everyone else. But she was dating my cousin, so I knew I couldn't be mean to her since she was important to my cousin. Anyways, one day she was missing for an entire week of school. When she came back she told everyone she tried to kill herself. She told us that she was in the hospital. She claimed she was depressed. At this time I was still depressed, but I was better at hiding it. I'd understand her telling her close friends that she was depressed, but she told the entire school. I'm not going to go into exact detail of what happened after that, but long story short she was lying. She told me not to tell anyone else she was lying, though. When I asked her why she didn't want to answer me, but I knew anyways. She wanted attention. It made me angry that someone could claim they had something that they didn't. Especially something that some people really didn't want. I didn't understand at all why someone would claim they had depression just so they could get attention. We weren't really close after that, but I figured that was for the best.


After that my depression started increasing and I felt like there was nothing I could do to stop it. Every night I would cry myself to sleep asking the lord for mercy. I had so many suicidal thoughts that they were pushing out all of the happy ones. I thought I was going to die from insanity. But still I was too afraid to tell anyone. I was too afraid of the embarassment it would cause me. I stopped talking to my friends, even when they would try to talk to me. I always got mad at my family for the little things they did. I spent most of my free time in my room staring at the wall. I never cut myself or hurt myself, though. That was actually one thing I didn't get. Suicide made sense to me, but cutting seemed so pointless. I was already hurting enough on the inside, I didn't get the point of hurting myself on the outside. But still I felt useless.


So you may be wondering- what did I do to save myself? Well, it didn't happen all of a sudden. I didn't wake up one day and suddenly I was a happy person. But I found things that made me happy. I think one of the most important factors was music. I listened to it all the time after I found music that I became addicted to.


I found another thing that made me happy- writing. I wrote stories and novels all the time. I still write them, actually, and when I grow up I want to be an author. I used music and writing to express myself. And before I knew it I was happy again. I only told one person about it after that, although I'm pretty sure my parents had their suspicions.


I think this is my first step to admitting that I had depression. And just remember- if you do have depression DO NOT be afraid to tell someone. People are not against you, they're on your side. If you need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me. Trust me, everyone deserves to be happy. :)

My Deal With The Hand Of Depression
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