I never fully understood how I felt and I was never able to express it in words. I just knew that this feeling was familiar and it was the only thing in my life that was stable. I know that this is a very confusing statement. Depression isn’t supposed to have anything positive about it, right?

There was a part of me that enjoyed the hollow feeling and that really scares me. I didn’t know much about depression but I just knew that there was something wrong with me and I didn’t want to change. I was sad all the time, hated myself, never saw any meaning to my life but at least I knew how I was going to feel the next day. As the days went by, I would feel nothing and want nothing. That nothingness is what made me feel as though I was okay. The depression slowly took over me a little everyday until there was none of me left. It made me feel helpless and trapped even when I was desperate for help.

Depression was my lover and I let it abuse me every night except no one would know because it didn’t leave any physical scars. Every morning I would do whatever it took to hide what was underneath. I covered up the dark circles with makeup, I put on clothes that I thought I liked and I would smile in the mirror.

I worked so damn hard to feel good. I wanted to feel good about something, anything at all but every time I would think of something nice, ten negative things would follow. The horrible, mean things I told myself in my head felt like second nature to me and if I wasn’t saying it to myself, I would imagine the mean things bullies had said about me in the past.

The day was easier to deal with because I surrounded myself with people that I cared about so the hollowness was temporarily filled but when night came, I was stuck alone with my thoughts. I was never able to sleep because I just couldn’t get my brain to stop.

Every time someone asked if I was okay, I’d lie and say that I was when I knew that I wasn’t and I’d continue this unhealthy cycle everyday because I enjoyed being hollow. When I would be in bed for days at a time, I would say “No one can hurt me because I hurt myself everyday.” It was a strange power trip that I still can’t understand.

I wasn’t able to break out of this cycle until I met someone who taught me that even though depression is an addiction that is hard to break out of, it’s the effort that counts. He showed me that all the negativity is in my head and that I have complete control of how I see myself. This person truly opened up my eyes about my situation so that I can seek out help for myself. I started going to a counselor everyday and really focused on how I can take control of my life. It was a long, tiring journey and the journey still isn’t over but I’ve managed to find myself again.

When I hear people say that depression isn’t real, it doesn’t surprise me because a lot of people like myself don’t want their depression to be seen. We have to remember that depression doesn’t leave any physical scars. The people that are still alive are survivors, don’t tell them they’re not because they are continuously battling something truly deadly. I almost didn’t make it. My own mother was not able to battle depression and she let it take her.

If you’re battling depression right now and reading this, keep fighting it. You may have depression but depression does not have you. You are in control even though it may not seem like it. You are a survivor.