It Hurts When Your Friends Never See Through Your Fake Smiles, Because We're All Really Dying Inside For Them to Notice.

 When I was younger I remember watching TV and seeing those antidepressant commercials. I never understood depression. I thought that I definitely wouldn't get it. Of course, I think everyone goes through some sort of stage of denial where they don't believe anything of the sort could happen to them. I went to a public elementary school and my life seemed normal. I know I wasn't depressed then. That didn't happen until late last year. Then, in fifth grade, we moved and I ended up going to a private Christian school. There, I learned of Christ and became a Christian. That was a pretty hard year for me. I didn't quite fit in once the "new girl" phase wore off. Sixth grade was fine. Seventh was basically the same. And then…eighth grade came around.

It started off alright. Over the summer I had started to spend more and more time alone in my room. More time isolated from my family. More time watching movies in my room alone. Yet still, I didn't think anything of it. I had always been a little bit of a loner. I've been skating for seven years now and I think around there I'm known as the girl who never talks. I can easily take the prize for quietest and most reserved. So around when winter break started whenever I would be alone I would just feel sad. At night, lying in my bed, trying to sleep, I would just start crying for seemingly no reason. I felt like no one ever really understood me. And then I would hear all these depression stories about kids going through child abuse and parent issues and cancer and stuff and it made me feel awful for always feeling so down when it seems like there's no reason for me to be this way. And still, I couldn't get over the sadness. At this point, I had yet to recognize the symptoms as depression. So when break ended I went back to school, every morning dreading waking up more and more. Seemingly everything effected me. Hearing a song on the radio, a bad grade, a comment made by a friend, even if only sarcastic, a romantic movie, a TV show, a book. Anything sent me spiraling. 

Soon, the only place I could feel a little more comfortable was at the skating rink. And that never did it most of the time. If someone would get in my way a lot while I was trying to do a double or a footwork sequence, I would get extremely irritated and upset. You could always tell when I was annoyed at the rink. My fingers would clench in anger. 

Then I would go home and sit in my room, on the computer or reading. Basically all my life consisted of. I would cry myself to sleep every single night. And, to my horror, at my 15th birthday party sleepover, while we were supposed to be asleep, I found myself unable to stop sobbing. Thankfully the room was dark, two girls were asleep, and three were playing with someone's phone or iPod or something so I don't think anyone noticed. Which made me feel any worse. I ended up having to leave and go downstairs until I calmed down a bit, claiming that I had forgotten to take a pill.  

I was starting to get irritated with my lifestyle. I didn't like all the constant crazy mood swings. How I could be so happy one moment, and then in the blink of an eye I could be about to burst into tears. I was on the internet one day, researching some disease, and a link came up about depression. That's when it hit me. Depression. I was suffering from depression. That caused me to start another one of my major spirals. 

Finally, I decided I needed to do something about it. I started research self-recovery tactics online. There was no way I was admitting to depression to anyone. Probably the biggest mistake I've taken. A lot of sites suggested keeping myself busy. So one day in the weekend I scheduled my entire day, minute by minute, of doing some sort of activity. I was motivated to do something for the first time in a while. I just wanted this whole thing to be over. The activities did help, and kept my thoughts occupied for a good amount of time. I continued to busy myself for a while, and then stopped. I hadn't had a meltdown in a long time. 

Many websites said depression was unconquerable without professional treatment, or medication, but I had thought I conquered the unconquerable. But then a couple weeks later I fell back down. Much worse than before. Whenever I was upset I would struggle with the urge of actually hurting myself. Cutting! Another thing I had never ever thought I could resort to! 

Over a short period of time the temptation of self injury became more appealing. I had read about people who cut themselves, and most of them did it because it relieved them from stress and such. 

I started by only by scratching myself with things. Nothing that drew blood. Then I started digging my fingernails into my arms until there were marks there for days. Even at school, I would do it in direly emotional moments. And then came the day where I actually cut myself. I felt like I was in a daze. It was the razor from a scrapbook paper cutter that my mom had bought me years ago and had been taken out recently for the help of making my science fair display board. 

It was hardly cut, but once I did it, I just stared. I couldn't believe I had done it. I threw the razor at my science fair board and haven't tried it since. It scared the crap outa me that I would actually do it. 

Then came the chest problems. I started having chest pains whenever I would breathe in. I ended up in the hospital for them. That kind of threw me off guard, too. And then there's those meetings with the allergist (I am a sufferer of over fifty food allergies, no lie. Its absolutely dreadful.) and they take a diagnosis of what's been going on in your health life, asking a series of questions like: any sneezing, rashes, depression? Every time I've answered "no" to depression. I wasn't going to admit to anything I had done. Did they really think anyone would answer "yes"? 

I've been doing better lately, though. I've yet to admit this to a soul, and I'm not sure I really ever will, besides for this (of course, this is completely anonymous, though). 

I refuse to take medications. Every time I take medications it throws my stomach off (this is related somehow to the bazillion food allergies, according to my doctor), and I'm still afraid to admit this to friends and family. 

All I can say is that its amazing how much fake smiles work and how it hurts when your friends never see through them. 

~Kristen

 

iceskater7 iceskater7
13-15
2 Responses Mar 24, 2009

If you really want to get over your depression and all the crap that goes with it, you have to stop thinking it's shameful to be depressed. Open up and talk to someone who can help you. I fought depression from the time I was in my mid teens. After years of trying to get help and pretty much got turned away because I was too poor to pay high priced head shrinkers. I finally got helped when I had had enough and tried to kill myself. Even so I still am struggling to get my life on track. Something it never has been. Don't try to do it on your own. You might make it, but as bad as what you are describing your behaviour to be I don't think you will.

Take Care of yourself