Where to start? I’d say emotions take up the substantial part of my life. I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder. I always have done and probably always will do. I am just going to say now that the latter wasn’t supposed to come across as negative statement, because now I feel like I’ve finally got the place where I can control the depression, but a disorder like that doesn’t just go away. Not ever.
To top the depression, I’ve always had trouble fitting in with people, with society. The idea of being accepted was a driving force in me for many years, and I never was accepted, no matter what I did or how hard I tried. I am just one of those different, complex, and often highly misunderstood people. Today I accept this, but it wasn’t always so. I used to do stupid things to try and fit in. I had no concept of social norms, and to this day I still barely do. The depression in conjunction with the rejection I felt I was unfairly receiving was too much for me to handle.
I hated myself. I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought that I was a plague that needed to be exterminated. No one cared and neither did I, or well, that’s what I believed. Truth was, I did care. I cared so much that it was breaking me in half. People thought I was trying to be all superior, that I believed I was better than everyone else, that’s apparently the way I came across. The thought that I couldn’t even be myself around anyone drove me to insanity, because the truth was, I didn’t actually know who I was.
I went suicidal. Twenty-ten was probably the most depressing year of my life. What I went through no one should have to experience. Unfortunately I’m not alone and many others do go through it. I was an absolute emotional wreckage. I couldn’t stand the sight of my own family because I thought they’d betrayed me, I couldn’t trust anyone enough to have friends, and I couldn’t be left alone in my own company for any extended period of time. Everything was painful. I couldn’t remember even one time in my life where I’d felt truly happy.
Finally I hit rock bottom in the fall of that year. I had suicidal tendencies for about a month. I remember getting as far as considering planning my own death. I’m pretty sure I would’ve carried it out too if it wasn’t for a miracle. Someone I knew from college just happened to message me during that awful phase, despite the fact we barely knew each other. The friends I did have at the time were no help, in fact I’d ditched them all. I was completely and totally alone. This guy, however, saved me. To this day I am convinced he was a miracle from God. I don’t quite remember what he said or how he did it, but he calmed me down, managed to chase away the suicidal tendencies.
I was okay for a while after that, for about six months roughly, well, if you could call it okay. Instead of being emotionally broken, I became emotionally numb. Life was a big blur of nothing. I ditched the friend who was probably responsible for saving my life, and I closed down all my social networking sites. I didn’t talk to or see anyone for that whole period of time because I was being home-schooled. I was living in some sort of post-traumatic suicidal haze. Eventually I got pulled into going to church with my family, and that’s when everything began to change.
I began to be connected again with people from the outside world. I decided to try and start a new leaf, with these new people who didn’t know me, who couldn’t judge me, who had no history of my past. The past caught up with me though. I didn’t want to hide my complex nature in front of everyone. I wanted people to understand. So I started up a blog and confessed everything. Shame to say that the wrong type of person stumbled across it and told my parents. To put it briefly, they were outraged. They didn’t realize what I’d been going through, I’d been hiding it so well. They couldn’t understand. They wanted me out the house.
Things continued to spiral down. The suicidal tendencies came back. I couldn’t cope and I was advised to write my parents a letter, to explain and to apologize. I decided to do just that. The thing is, the thing that so far I’ve failed to mention is the fact that I had no idea who my real dad was. I was told he rejected me when I was a baby, thus fear of rejection was apparently a subconsciously inbuilt behavior. I suggested to my parents for us to find him, so that I could have a chance to know who I really am. They agreed.
I flew six thousand miles to see my biological dad. He was overwhelmed with emotion on sight of me, apparently rejection not the reason I was abandoned. Things were sorted out, or so I thought. Both dads were there with me, and lo and behold of all things I met a guy who ended up somewhat becoming my boyfriend. I ended up pushing both of my dads away in the process. I was the one who rejected both of them. After a few weeks it turns out that mr boyfriend was not just using me, but also two timing me. I had ruined everything, for acceptance by a boy. I’d never had a boyfriend before. I was so susceptible. I had ruined everything. I flew back to England. That was six months ago.
I was so distraught at my stupidity, not just those couple of months, but my whole life too, that I fell back into depression. I started self harming. I started cutting, I started extracting the opiates in painkillers to use as drugs, I started drinking till I was sick. I became a wreck. I realized I couldn’t trust myself. I realized how I am my own worst enemy.
I was depressed, but one day something inside of me had clicked. I do relate this to meeting my biological dad. I completely did a three-sixty. I decided that I was going to ignore my emotions. It meant that I wouldn’t have to care about anything for the first time in my life, including people. I found it extremely difficult to change a lifetime worth of thought processes, but I succeeded. I no longer feel things, and I’ve learned how to instantaneously switch myself off from the emotional haunting when I become tempted. I still have no friends, no life, but I know who I am, and for the first time in my life I’m content, and to me that’s all that matters.
I still deeply distrust people, but it’s almost a dismissive type of action these days, I don’t care anyone whether I have friends or not, usually preferring my own company. I stick to the shadows now because I no longer have that driving urge to be accepted. I thrive in being different. No one could ever convince me otherwise.
I am unique and I am special. I still get depressive episodes, however. Like I said in the beginning, a disorder doesn’t ever go away. It’s always there in the background of my head space, like static, but I’ve learned to drown it out, for the most part.
I hope this can be used as an inspiration for change. Anyone who’s going through any problems can feel free to contact me. I know what it’s like to be misunderstood. I still mostly am misunderstood, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. I feel free, and I hope I can help others feel free too. I know how addicting depression is. It’s a drug. It’s an entire life. It’s even better than being happy, because if you’ve never been happy then it’s a hundred times better than feeling nothing. Depression becomes happiness, and only the strong ones could possibly ever know that.