My earliest memory of my depression is form when I was 8. I was born into a religious family, and all I can remember is that every night before going to sleep I would pray for me not to wake up. Every morning I would be disappointed that I woke up.
I just remember feeling like I always got in the way and I still do. My parents didn’t have money problems before I came along. And all I can think about is if I just end it they’ll have the money they need, if I’m gone they’re worries would be gone.
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As far as I can remember, mine started when I went to school.
Kids are absolutely rotten to anybody who is “different”.
When I gradually realized that teachers would always let bullies get away with anything/everything, I dreaded school, dreaded social interaction, hated being the target.
As a middle-aged adult, I get along with people all right these days, but the same disability issues are still there. My health and mobility have gotten steadily worse. I went from needing canes, to leg braces, to walkers, to wheelchairs.
But yeah… like you, my depression began in early childhood.
I’m sorry to hear how it was for you. You survived so much, so young. No child should have to endure that.
I was also born into a religious family. A steady diet of harsh teachings wore away at my childhood wonder and joy.
I’m going through the same thing at the moment. It’s 23:49 right now (11:49 P.M.) and I cannot stop crying. I’m constantly told to “relax” by my parents, plus they are so impatient that they are giving me supplements I don’t even know I need. I hate feeling like an unfix able nuisance, to the point that they tell me, “we dont know what to do.” I get it. I’m stuck with this mindset for the rest of my life, which will hopefully end soon.