I never wanted to believe I was depressed even though the symptoms were all right there. The constant sadness, feelings of hopelessness, suicidal thoughts, lack of sleep, grades slipping.. The whole time I just pretended I was okay and ignored my feelings. Whenever it got really bad I’d cut myself and sleep listening to music. I never told anyone any of this, because no one really cared. And also thinking about it and writing it down makes me seem crazy, so I couldn’t imagine what people would think if I told them any of this. And honestly, I finally am accepting the fact that I could be crazy and I may need some help.
I guess the first time I started feeling this way was when I was a child and my parents divorced. I was young so I didn’t quite understand anything that was going on, in fact I hardly remember the situation. My mom remarried a few years later and my step dad ‘loved me as if I was his own kid.’ He adopted me, and ‘everything was great.’
The problem with that story is that everything wasn’t great. That is not how it went. I felt neglected by my parents a lot. I never talked with them as a child and to this day they hardly acknowledge my existences except when I screw up with things and they yell at me for it. I stay in my room mostly everyday staring at my ceiling, listening to music, or playing my guitar. My life is depressing as it is and I have no one at all to talk to. Ever.
So I have no parents to talk to about things and no friends because of the way I was treated during 8th grade. It made me become anti-social. In 8th grade I had absolutely no friends, the teachers hated me for unknown reasons (or maybe it was just me), and so did just about every kid. I would get beat up after school, get hit, pushed, shoved, and even bullied by almost everyone. I said nothing, did nothing back, and sometimes enjoyed getting beat up. I swear it was a game to them. Like whoever had me hurt and scarred me the most won a great achievement medal. I wanted to leave that school but my parents never cared about me and wanted me to stay there. And just like that I snapped.
I was so down with no one to talk to. I didn’t understand how I was feeling, no one would help me get through it so I let it be. I sometimes would actually sit at my bed and pray to God and beg him, while crying, to not let me wake up to another day. I would pray in tears at the age of 13-14 to die. That isn’t living, that’s hell.
It was the worst time of my life.
Things got better by the time I got out of that school and went to high school. I met a girl there and we started dating for 3 years. The first year in our relationship was great and so was the second year. But by my junior year I collapsed. I began fighting with myself, thinking horrible thoughts about myself and how people saw me. I couldn’t sleep, I began cutting myself for no reason. Mostly for fun. I wasn’t being bullied but those feelings resurfaced and I started writing about suicide and death a lot more. I wrote horrible things that would probably be shunned upon and would get me sent to a mental hospital if anyone saw them.
My girlfriend tried her best to help me through it but I wasn’t happy at all. I knew she wasn’t happy with me and I couldn’t take her having to deal with my issues because I’m a screw up. She went on antidepressants because of me, she gave up all her friends because of me, I ruined her life and it wasn’t fair. She is in honors everything and also AP courses. I couldn’t ruin her future and hold her back anymore so I dumped her. I know that was a low blow so you don’t have to remind me about it, I miss her everyday as it is. But she moved on pretty quickly. I don’t blame her either for moving on.
I became a recluse keeping to myself, I never talk to anyone about how I feel ever. People don’t even take notice of my existences and I still have no one who even cares. and honestly I just ruin everyone’s life who I encounter so it’s best I just be left alone and to die alone. I have no one and I know I need help. I can’t take being alone all the time anymore. Whenever I’m left alone I think these horrible things and it makes me so upset to the point where I start cutting myself. If I wasn’t so scared of dying I would’ve killed myself by now.
So what should I do? Seek help from a doctor, or think it’s just a bump in the road and I’ll eventually get better?
1 comment
Your first sentence suggests that, all along, the symptoms may have indicated depression. This might be a good indication that it’s a good idea to speak with someone. Previously, I went through periods of ignoring quite powerful symptoms and saying things like, “it’ll get better” or “it’s just a phase” or “it’s been a tough week at work” or… It wasn’t the right decision. All along, I probably should have spoke with someone… a Social Worker, a psychologist, or a psychiatrist. That might be a good idea for you.