my struggle with depression

my story of dealing with depression: may be triggering to some

This is an account of my journey with depression from my youth until I finally found the professional help I needed and the right person to help me deal with my depression. I still struggle with it on occasion, but these days it is not the problem it once was. I now have a supportive partner, and I also have the resources I need to cope.

 My journey with depression began many years ago when I was only 8 or 9 years old. It was insidious, starting with feelings of isolation and sadness. As an elementary school student, I often sat alone in class, retreating into my imagination to escape the harsh reality around me. I hated being there but didn’t know how to express these feelings to my teachers or parents.

My withdrawal from others became noticeable to my classmates, which only fueled their taunting and bullying. This intensified my feelings of isolation and sadness. In response, I decided to emulate a character from one of my favorite shows a character who didn’t express emotions. I tried my best to bottle up my feelings, aiming to suppress the sadness and emotional pain, striving to not show any emotion and feel nothing at all.

In some ways, this approach seemed effective, but in other ways, it made things worse. By trying to conceal my emotions, I inadvertently encouraged my classmates to escalate their efforts to provoke a reaction from me, whether it was anger or sadness. This created an endless cycle: their bullying sought a response, while my determination to remain emotionless only prolonged their torment.

There were moments of genuine happiness and feeling like a normal person, however the shadow of depression was always present. I hadn’t yet fully recognized it or addressed it constructively.

I vividly recall an incident around the age of 12 or 13, when the bullying reached a particularly painful level.  Desperate for comfort, I turned to someone I believed would understand and help. With tears streaming down my face, I poured out my heart, explaining the relentless bullying I endured. 

Instead of finding the support I had hoped for Their response was harsh and dismissive: “Stop making things up and quit feeling sorry for yourself.” the sting of their harsh and dismissive words cut deep, leaving me feeling even more rejected and alone. 

This experience led me to resolve that I could never open up to anyone again. I became even more determined to keep my emotions bottled up, no matter the cost. Years went by with some positive moments, but without addressing my depression, the bad times persisted.

During my teenage years, my family moved to a small town, which only brought my depression into sharper focus. As a new student at a new school, I became a target for bullying once more. My well-established depression made it even harder to cope. I continued to suppress my emotions, which only seemed to increase and prolong the bullying. 

I felt like I was never truly accepted by anyone. Although there were moments when I felt almost like a normal teenager, something would always bring the shadow of depression back.

One particular episode of depression during my teenage years led me to attempt suicide for the first time. I remember it vividly, even though I don’t recall the exact date. It must have been March, or April during school hours on a sunny day. I had left the school grounds.

I was standing across the street, feeling overwhelmingly depressed. As I prepared to return to school, I noticed a semi-truck approaching. In a moment of despair, I thought, “Why not let this truck hit me? I could make it look like an accident.”

It seemed like an escape from my pain. I positioned myself between two cars and waited for the truck to get close, when it reached a point where I thought it would not be able to stop in time, I stepped out from between the cars. The result was not what I had hoped for, the driver was able to hit his brakes and swerve just enough. to barely avoid striking me. No one other than the driver saw the close call I had that day.

Yes, my depression had a strong hold on me, but still, at times it would lift and there would be what I considered good times. I would have good times with my family and a couple of people that i did consider friends. Time passed as it inevitably will, and I still had not even considered seeking professional help yet. I had developed what I thought were effective coping mechanisms.

For example, I developed a passion for reading. I found science fiction and fantasy books were a great escape. I found that while reading the "real world" would fade away and I was in whichever book I was reading. It was like I was a bystander watching whatever action was going on. I would forget about whatever was troubling me at the time. 

I still had the habit of burying my feelings and emotions, but by now most people have come to accept that this was "normal" for me. The fact is, I still felt them and at times the were painful, but did my best not to show them. This became a way of life for me and I accepted it, I realize now that by trying not to feel anything and show no emotions, I was only setting myself up for a greater fall when the time came.

Using the coping tactics I had come up with my emotions seemed to level out, instead of the rollercoaster ride of emotions that I had been going through. I no longer felt the overwhelming sadness and despair that I had been feeling. But one day everything came crashing down, and even today I still don't know what caused it. 

All my defenses against my depression just failed, and all the sadness, loneliness, and despair started to return. Slowly at first but these feelings continued to grow as time went by. Until one day I felt that i could not take anymore, that was the day I once again decided that life wasn't worth it.

looking back on that day I am glad I failed in my attempt to end my life, It was a turning point for me though. 

Ending up in the hospital proved to be a crucial step in my recovery. It forced me to confront my issues and introduced me to professionals who helped me address my destructive thoughts and feelings.

After spending some time in the hospital I was discharged and moved into an apartment complex. While living there I continued receiving support from professionals who helped me develop better coping strategies to deal with my depression.

While living at the apartment complex I met my life partner, she has been my rock. 

She stood by me through times when my depression threatened to overwhelm me, encouraging me to persist with therapy even when it seemed ineffective. She is the love of my life, and I owe her so much.

I still struggle with depression from time to time, and will probably will for the rest of my life, but I now know that I can do it. I have someone willing to stand by me and help me when I need it.

I am sharing this in hopes that others can see that they are not alone and that there is hope. Please don't let things go as far as I did, reach out to someone and ask for help.