Tag: depression

Band Aids and Bullet Holes

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I think this is going to end up becoming a depressive rant and that scares me because I haven’t felt an inch of sadness since I started my meds. But there are some kinds of pain that even medication can’t control. You try to cover the hurts with a band-aid hoping for them to heal, but what good are band aids when the hole in your heart is from a bullet.

I’ve been shot. I can’t explain how or why here, for the fear of being speculated and probed and incised by untrained surgical hands of my dear friends. I fear that I will bleed out.

I will nurse my bullet wounds, cover them up with band aids, and try to walk like no one notices the flinch on my face every time I draw a breath.

Social anxiety, my psychiatrist labeled my feelings.

Caution, I say. After all look where it got me when I opened up.

Depression: Why I am Finally Speaking Up About It

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I think it is physically very difficult to explain what depression is like. The thought of forming words to explain how you are feeling chokes up your throat and all you can do is breathe. Breathing. Intense breathing is what I used whenever I felt the slightest stir in my mood, shifting into the dark box of sadness even on the brightest of days.

“Are you happy? You seem to be, but I don’t think you are.” These lines were what my psychiatrist said while observing me with her kind eyes. I knew I was unhappy. I had been suffering from depression since high school; but that exact moment was the first time anyone acknowledged that they had seen my unhappiness.

Many people around me know about my depressive episodes. I always felt that mental health issues should never be hidden, so I made a point to explain what I was feeling.

“That’s okay. I feel sad sometimes too.”

“I think you are just stressing out too much. Learn to have some fun.”

“You should stop reading all those articles about depression. Maybe you’re getting some ideas from them.”

“You look very happy.”

The instant that I heard those responses, I regretted my decision. I’m not saying my friends were bad people; they simply didn’t know how to act around me. I don’t blame them. Depression is very hard to come in terms with, especially in your loved ones. People tend to back away and not talk about it in hopes that someone more “experienced” will step up to offer better advice and take charge.

My ADHD fueled my depression and vice versa. The stress of not focusing led my mind to crazy corners that broke me down every single day. And the fact that I didn’t have anyone to talk to distracted me even more. Books and movies and tumbler posts became my escape because I could not bear to be alone with my thoughts.

I am 19, an adult on my last teen years. I always felt that I was too young to be depressed. I hadn’t faced any real pain in life. It took me a lot of courage to talk to my doctor about it, and only when she told me you can’t compare pain, I realized that I deserved to get help.

I still cannot write about the intricate details about depression, what and why I feel at such moments, but I believe this is a start. I don’t want any sympathy or empathy. I have a good life, great friends and a loving family. Despite of being “blessed”, I am clinically depressed. Depression doesn’t look at your status or intelligence, it just is. I hope people can see that we do not need a special treatment, but just someone to listen to us without judgment and be there.