You scare me. You worry me. You are the worst thing that has happened to me. You cut me wide open, poured salt in the wound and squeezed some of the life out of me. Depression, you brought me to rock bottom.
For me, getting out of bed was the most difficult thing to do. Not because I felt sluggish or tired, but because I was nervous and unmotivated, in fear of “losing” again. I was set on not “playing the game” instead of risking a loss again. I felt that if I stayed under the covers all day, I wouldn’t have to tackle the world. My bed and my walls weren’t going to look at me differently. My room wasn’t going to hurt me and I wouldn’t cry if I didn’t have a reason to--if I did, I would see it, not everyone else. It wasn’t long before I was asking my roommates to hold onto my painkillers from my knee surgery in fear that I would abuse them depending on the severity of my episode. I would subconsciously make myself worse; thinking that I deserved to be alone, to be in the dark, to neglect taking care of myself, and to be sad and anxious all of the time. I opted to feel pain instead of feeling emptiness, which was a mistake. I missed too many classes, isolated myself, and didn’t do the things that I loved. I was not doing myself any favors.
People will tell you positive things but it will seem to roll right off of you. People will tell you that you are loved, and that you should be happy, and how lucky you are. I’m lucky, I have the best support system in the world. My family, my friends at home and school, my roommate, they all kept me going. I always heard the message, “you are loved by everyone, I don’t know how you feel this way.” While all those words are very kind and sincere and presently appreciated, it is difficult to digest those kind words when you feel the opposite about yourself. I needed help.
I sought professional help, I started seeing my incredible counselor, I didn’t allow myself to crawl up into a ball and give up, and I got prescribed the necessary medication. I flushed my painkillers down the toilet, I didn’t let myself stay in bed all day, I changed my lifestyle, I wasn’t ashamed of my depression. I dove back into my schoolwork and the gym. I started to take all the necessary steps towards being better.
I won’t lie, it’s not easy. I have made phenomenal progress since the beginning of all of this, but I have fallen down time after time and I still have work to do. I was doing well and then some bad stuff happened again and I couldn’t help but wonder why all these terrible things kept happening. But that’s life. Life is all about ups and down, so just because you fall down, don’t lose sight of your goal.
Value the things that make you happy. Don’t hide your feelings, more people can understand what you are going through than you believe. The worst thing you can do is believe that you are a liability and that your problems don’t matter. I understood that there were going to be times where my friends and my family were going to have to be strong for me when I knew I couldn’t. I knew that some days I wouldn’t be able to get myself out of bed but my roommates would somehow get me on my feet. Through these difficult times, you will grasp a firm understanding of who your true friends are, as well as those who don’t deserve your energy as much. You need to understand that you aren’t as bad as you think and that you need help sometimes. Life is a team sport and you’ll always get by with a few good friends.
To this day, my feelings towards you haven’t changed. You still scare the hell out of me. You still worry me to no end. You remain the worst thing that has happened to me thus far. You cut me wide open, poured salt into my wounds and squeezed some of the life out of me. Depression, you brought me to rock bottom.
Understand this though, I am beating you, you don’t dominate my thoughts, I stitched up my wounds, and rock bottom forced me to work my way up, so thanks.
If any of you readers are struggling or simply want to talk, feel free to email me at esweeney1264@gmail.com.
