“You can watch as the people around you go about their lives, as though they had never felt as you do. You can listen to their lies, how they can talk about anything, anything except that which is true, that which does not live outside a soul. It is the tenderness of life, the naïveté of human beings that allows them to continue their lives. They speak and they eat, unaware or unwilling to admit the hollowness of life. The unspeakable burden that is all worth nothing. And you can watch, but you can never be a part of it. You can never taste the sweet bliss of thoughtlessness. You can never put on plugs that will block out your own mind. The visions may whither, the sound may fade, but the thoughts will never go away. The vivid horror of truth.”
That’s one example of the “teenage angst” pieces I wrote back in the day. But the problem is that it wasn’t just teenage angst. It was major depression expressing itself. It was a disorder that I continue to deal with and have maybe been dealing with my whole life. That’s the disturbing part. While depression is becoming less of a taboo in our society, it is still something that people might be ashamed of and that friends and family, though they try to empathize, might not fully understand. The depression is in our minds, but it affects our lives and sometimes even our bodies. Even so, it’s an embarrassing illness to admit that you have, and some people might not even believe it’s an illness to begin with. And that’s an incredibly frightening thought, because it can be fatal.
I’m talking about it now because it’s hard to talk about, and because it’s important. It’s hard to put into words to how it feels and to let someone listen, when you know it might not help and they might not understand. I dealt with it in high school by writing – knowing full well that I wasn’t sharing with anyone, but writing nonetheless to just try to vocalize how terrible it felt. College was a blur of distractions. It isn’t until now that I’m seeking professional help – only now that I can admit that this is a problem and not something I can just push down and hide. I’ve tried and will continue to try to articulate how it feels to be so anxious that it debilitates my ability to be in the same room as others – how it feels to wake up crying and unable to get out of bed.
Depression has affected every single part of my life. It puts me down when I accomplish vocational or academic achievements – it’s that gnawing thought that makes me feel alone, cut off from those closest to me. It’s made me believe in the worst in myself and the worst in the world. Depression has many times almost killed me. Every year, 42,773 Americans die by suicide. It’s not just a feeling, it’s real.
But this isn’t a cry for help. No. This is my battle cry. My depression had crawled into the depths of my every day until my life was its to control.
Not anymore.
This time I fight. For myself, for my loved ones, and for the life that is mine to live. I understand all too well that the depression might never go away, but that doesn’t mean that I have to succumb to it. I have a choice. I’ll always have a choice. And I choose to fight. I choose to empower myself and to make myself even stronger than I would have been even without my depression. I choose to believe that I’m worth it. I choose to be my own hero.
Every day.
This piece is dedicated to Alek Feller, who would have turned 24 today but lost his life just a few months after high school. Rest in peace, old friend.
If you or someone you know might suffer from feelings of despair, please find help 24/7 at the Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255). Find more information about resources and treatment at www.mentalhealth.gov.
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