A Story To Be Told...

A story to be told…

It has been almost 6 years since I have been fighting it, and the worst that’s been said to me is:

“You’re overthinking.”

“Is that all you’re depressed about?”

“Stop overreacting all the time.”

This is not me overreacting or overthinking my thoughts over and over again. This is me dealing and suffering with depression. This is my demon running its black toxins through my head, poisoning my thoughts and feelings.

It is not an emotion, it is an illness. A completely illogical illness.

From everyone else’s point, they see the most positive thing going in my life. But when it strikes, at least for me, it makes me feel as if a part of my mind has turned off the switch to be able to enjoy or feel things. It makes me feel as if my brain has sniffed off my personality and misplaced it somewhere else. I am there but not there at the same time.

I didn’t choose it. It came to me and the worst thing is that it is still hard to figure why. Sometimes I find myself fighting it with full courage but the other time I feel defeated.

No body actually feels it they just come up with their own idea of dealing with it. i may smile and laugh and seem happy, but deep down I am struggling. And when I say struggle believe me on that. I have been to the worst. I have had suicidal thoughts. I have attempted suicide. This has made me feel a failure, no matter my success. This has made me feel like I’m a burden on everyone around me.

I have fiercely bombarded myself with untrue accusations. I have felt completely alone even when everyone was there for me.

And that was the moment I saw it beating me and decided to fight it. That was the moment for me to decide “FIGHT or FLIGHT”. 

I started talking to my friends about it, I started going out with them. I stated visiting a therapist. I started my medicines. It was actually helping me get out of it. And I was very happy (well I thought).

I was fine that morning. I was anticipating my next therapy appointment so I could tell my therapist that the medicine was working and I was finally getting better. Then 5o’clock came and I had to escape to the washroom to cry because I couldn’t control the sudden tears that were burning in my eyes and the thoughts telling me that there was no point in me continuing to live… again!

The whole point of me noting it down is that the way I have dealt with depression it as shown me the worst part of my own mind. It has made me realise that life is harsh. I made wrong choices, I have trusted wrong people too. But everything happens for a reason. But it happened that way to make me the way I am today.

Even now there are times when I don’t feel okay. And it’s okay to not feel okay! I am still fighting depression. It feels like it has become a part of my life. But I have also accepted the fact that this can be a part of my life, but this cannot be my life.

People who don’t have depression don’t understand. But they can still be there for you. Don’t get angry because you don’t comprehend how their mind works.

Our mind can be very scary place. Support people with depression, even if you don't understand. Just be there.<3