The Side Effects Of My Depression No One Told Me To Look For
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The Side Effects Of My Depression No One Told Me To Look For

Depression is the murderer of the heart and mind.

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The Side Effects Of My Depression No One Told Me To Look For
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What is depression? In today's society, I feel like telling people you are depressed sparks the same reaction as coming out as gay. First, there is the initial shock as the news sinks into their skull. And if it is a parent you are confessing to, they will probably start blaming themselves, but the one thing you will hear pour out of everyone's mouth is "it's just a phase."

Look, I'm not saying I was born depressed, but I am not saying I am being sad to fit into a "trend." Depression is a mental health disorder that over 350 million people worldwide suffer from, myself included. It is not a trend. It is something that lives under your skin, so if you're going to label it, call it a problem and fix it!

According to the ADAA, over 2.8 million adolescents in the United States from ages 13-17 suffer from depression. Unfortunately, life is not as pure as it seems in fairytales. Daily, children are being subjected to physical violence and emotional abuse; both domestically and outside of the home. Childhood is built on the idea of a safe haven; an incubator to prepare us for the real world and the requirements we are forced to meet.

No one ever explained to me that this was what coming of age looked like: deciding to be swallowed by the ocean or learning how to swim. I chose the latter, but to be quite frank, I have not always been the best swimmer.

Read the following carefully: have you seen the signs?

1. Investing in a personal outlet is a necessity.

Everyone has at least one favorite activity: sports, listening to music, drawing- even video games. Mine is writing. I must admit, in my early youth, I never possessed an interest for it. But over the years, I have come to acknowledge the beautiful voice writing gives me. As a poet, I can definitely validate the use it as a healing process. It places me on the path to recovery, but there are definitely bumps along the road. After all, these aren't merely flesh wounds I am working with; these are amputations, and I can't exactly put band-aids on places where other parts of myself used to exist. That is not healing, it is hiding.

I started writing letters to Depression, but "he" is not one person. Sometimes I write to the people I used to love, and occasionally, my father. But that's why I write; to pour life back into these deflated balloon lungs of mine, so I no longer have to live in the same home as Depression. He has locked the front door, and most days, I never know if he is exhaling down my neck or if it's just me hearing my own breath. Lately, he has wrapped himself in the fear that I will leave him. Funny how he makes me feel the same way about everyone I love.

2. Memories can be a b*tch.

You know that moment when you're falling asleep, but instead, you fall into the hands of regret and you feel like you are suffocating? Been there. Oh, and that time you met someone new and felt like you could really have something with them, that is, until you unstitch the lips of a memory and it makes kissing their lips sound scary as hell? Yep, been there, too. My past creeps behind me, but I didn't know it was going to be like a damn shadow!

3. I am cautious around everyone I know.

As someone who is not a stranger to being engulfed in flames, I recognize everyone I care about as fire. I feel like I will burn to ashes if I stay too close, so I prefer to keep my distance, preferably by an emergency exit. I see expiration dates with every person I meet because nothing is forever. Still, to this day, I do not know whether to label it a blessing or a curse.

4. I am the only one that can understand myself.

But I don't. I am a book written in a language I created that I cannot comprehend. It's all me, but I don't know what it means. How am I expected to give an answer if I don't understand the question? I tend to live inside my head. I share casual conversations with myself in the shower and in the grocery store when I don't know which flavor of Ramen Noodles I want to eat and basically everywhere else.

5. My conversations have turned into jokes that aren't really jokes.

I will laugh at my sadness before I will ever begin to get rid of it. Jokes don't necessarily make things better. They merely put my problems on pause. Humor is also a way to cope with issues. Not the best strategy — but nonetheless — a strategy. For example, I work at a lovely grocery store. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, but after a long work shift, I tend to be crafty with my words towards the customers.

A man once came up to my register with a basket full of mice traps and poison. He complained about how the mice did not want to leave. Eager to help him in any way I could, I asked, "Wanna know how to make something leave?" He nodded as I breathed the words, "Love them."

He bought me a Snickers after that. I think he felt bad.

You get the picture.

6. I see ghosts.

My life is not an episode of "Supernatural" on a perpetual loop, so no, I do not mean real spirits. I am referring to the memories of everyone I know. I see them everywhere, like when I am listening to the radio and that Mac Miller song comes on (the one that my old love said reminded him of me). Then there are those mornings I would burn my oats because I could never cook them as well as my father. And when days get really bad, I imagine my ex singing that song and my father handing me a bowl of oatmeal.

7. I know it gets better.

Though my writing may not portray it sometimes, I am an optimist who has been given many reasons to be a pessimist, but yet, I choose not to. I am highly skilled at blinding myself from my problems, but when it comes to poetry, I can also eclipse the quality aspects of life too. It is a small sacrifice to `make to create something beautiful. Most times, it hurts, but it is healing, and that is all that matters. I know things get worse, but I know they can always get better. So hang in there. Be patient. I know this is not easy for you. Some days, you wake up and the only thing you can think about is going back to sleep. I know that mask you wear is heavy and painful, but know that while battling depression, you do not have to shrink your voice to fit into the palms of others. Do not make yourself small just so everyone can be more comfortable. Prepare to tear down your brick walls.

You are coming home to yourself.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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