Eleven years. It’s been eleven years since I’ve had control over my emotions. Since I have felt any sense of normalcy or joy.
Medication after medication. None of them have worked.
Electro shock therapy. Gave me six months of relief before I relapsed, and my psychiatrist is convinced that the habits and anxiety and addictions that I never used to have before the ECT would have happened anyway. When I went through the treatment, I had no memory of anything for months straight. I forgot how to drive, where I was half the time, and each session was nightmarish.
Speaking of my psychiatrist, since I’ve started seeing him, I’ve had my brain blasted away into nothing and gained nearly a hundred pounds in two years because of the Depakote he put me on.
Depression has screwed me emotionally, mentally, socially, and financially.
It took my energy, my motivation, my happiness, my dreams, and my wishes. It took away the few things I found comfort in.
It took away my ability to work. My fiance takes care of me, but how long will it be before he decides that I’m not worth all the resources.
I self medicate with cigarettes and weed. Mere band aids.
I keep it a secret from most people.
Most of the time I feel ashamed and worthless, and there’s no way out because I cant bear the thought of killing myself and hurting everyone around me.
But I already am hurting everyone around me. Depression hurts me, and the people I love. My parents don’t know what to do. They’re worried about me, and yet they don’t understand what it’s like one bit, so they show their concern by criticizing me.
I really don’t know what to fucking do anymore.