Life.

For as long as I know, I have been battling depression. Depression to me, is like a like a never ending illness. It never ever goes away. It just stays in a corner, waiting to rear its ugly head whenever the chances come. I like to say I’m depressed no more but truthfully, I can’t. I simply can’t break out of this depression trap. Yes, I no longer think of killing myself 20 times a day or do I actually try and get myself killed anymore. But I still do think I ought to have ended my life when I wanted to back then. I’m at a horrible stage of not wishing to kill myself and not exactly wanting to live either. On all those sleepless nights, I lie in bed and cant help but think about what ifs. I question certain decisions I made and if those decisions were right. I question my decision not to die.   Other than an ex-bestfriend, no one knows about my depression and /or its history. Not even my parents or anyone in the family. I was never close to any of them and I couldn’t possibly tell them that they made me depressed. How on earth could I have told my parents that they made me feel like killing myself? I can’t remember exactly when I started to think of death. I guess it was probably when I was around 14. My parents make me sick with the things they do and the crap they put me through. There will always be a fight every sunday and although I can’t remember how the every single fight started but like always, it always begins with my mother and ends when everyone walks away and bangs doors. There was once the fight got so bad and out of hand, I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran to the bathroom, shut the door, sat on the floor and started crying. I’m not a crying sort of person. I only cry when I lose it. And there I was crying on the bathroom floor and I got really frustrated. I just wanted to end it all. I rummaged through the toiletries and found a razor. I pressed the razor into my wrist and it only took seconds for blood to start flowing out. When I saw the blood, I froze. I thought that if I had the courage to kill myself, I could use the same courage and try to get through the life. So, I washed away the blood, threw away the razor and wipe away my tears. That thought was bullshit really but it managed to bring me through the next few months. After that, the suicidal thoughts returned and they were stronger than before.    Throughout the years, save for that single episode in that bathroom, I never silted my wrists and did anything that would result physically. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. I didn’t want to be noticed. I didn’t want any help. All I wanted was to die. Every night I would go to bed and pray not to wake up the next morning. Every morning I wake up and the first thing I do is sigh at another day. I was (not sure if i still am) done with life. I want so badly to disappear. I didn’t (and still don’t) want to feel anymore. All I thought was death.   I had a major nervous breakdown when I was 17. My depression got out of hand. I began having a variety of physical symptoms. I had anxiety attacks, grew phobias and my body became weaker and weaker. And then one day, I fainted in school. That was the last straw for me. I went to see a doctor who eventually referred to me a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist made an evaluation and I was diagnosed with serve depression. The psychiatrist was only responsible for providing me with medication so she arranged for me to see a psychologist as well. In a nutshell, the shrinks were of no help at all. If anything, they made life even more difficult. They kept asking me to talk about this and that over and over and over again. I didn't want to talk! Talking makes me think and it reminds me of the past. I was also given tons of medicine and they did nothing for me so i just stopped taking them. One day, they decided that I should be warded in the hospital because my suicidal tendencies were a big worry. I said no, I didn’t want to be warded but they weren’t really listening to me. They wanted to call my parents to get the paper work done. Earlier when I first saw them, we made a pact that they would keep quiet about my depression and my parents will not be informed about anything unless I say so. Staying at the hospital was out of the question. I was very determined to keep my depression a secret. And so, I told my shrinks that I never wanted to see them again and left the clinic promptly. I don’t really know how I got through all these on my own. I didn’t have anyone who supported me. There was no one to turn to, no one who understood me. I don't know how i lasted till now. I feel tired really. Life has been a total *****. Sometimes, i cant help but ask myself, what am i still doing here for?
tornapart tornapart
22-25, F
1 Response Aug 19, 2007

Alot of how you feel describes me to. The only person that i have really ever talk to is an ex-best friend and i tend to shut myself away from the world. But we have to continue on. I have found a purpose in my life now and mine happens to be a y yr. old boy that is my son even though i have not seen him in 2 years i know i will and i will see him again. You need to find some kind of purpose. I know it is hard and you will say I am full of crap but it is there. believe me it is. sometimes they come from the strangest places but they are there. your purpose to ;ive and survive will comke to you,