This is a letter to anyone who will read it. You probably have nothing better to do or your nosiness is getting the better of you. I am a 21 year old girl, writing this because I have no other way to get what I’m feeling out. 21 years old who has had severe depression for 6 years. 6 whole years of pretending that everything’s alright, 6 years of people thinking I am not depressed, 6 years of family thinking it was only mild and that I was fixed. Little do they know that every day since 2011 I have thought about dying, dreamt about my funeral and how good it will feel to be finally off this planet? Before you picture this stereotypical “emo” who hates the world, I’m not like that at all, I enjoy certain things in life and I don’t outwardly talk about how awful I feel and I don’t crave attention from people to tell me that life is beautiful, that I am beautiful. I have never self-inflicted harm upon myself until February 2015. I remember that day so clearly. Friday 13th of February 2015, as I sat in the library of Cumbernauld College trying so hard to fix 3 essays that were overdue, I was almost finished so happy to finally be fixing the mistakes to hand them back in until I was suddenly clouded again with darkness. This happened often, feeling good, feeling accomplished then suddenly this big black cloud would take over my thoughts, take over my feelings and spiral me downwards. That’s what people don’t understand, depression isn’t always being sad or feeling down, it’s a feeling of being pushed down constantly by your own mind. Being betrayed by your thoughts and having no control over how much hate and sadness you feel, having all your willpower and positivity taken away from you until the darkness passes. That day was bad, the cloud wasn’t disappearing, and it wouldn’t leave me alone. As I sat in the library I made up my mind, that was the day, that was the day I would kill myself. I gathered my books and I left to head home, no one was home apart from my dog so I rummaged around and found as many different tablets as possible. I sat on my bed with them all in front of me and a bottle of alcohol, one by one I swallowed them accompanied with some cider – classy I know. Once id taken all the pills, I got my notepad and pen out and wrote letters. Letters to my family and friends to tell them why and that I would always love and miss them, telling them that even if they tried they couldn’t help, that I was too far gone into this pit of darkness. I wasn’t sad writing these letters, I didn’t feel any pain as I wrote my final goodbyes and how I wanted my funeral to go, I felt relieved and I felt happy. My time was coming and I was actually looking forward to it. I felt a bit drowsy, but not as bad as I thought I would be, everyone came home and I proceeded as normal. Asked how work was, what they were planning on having for dinner the usual family chit chat. The night went on and all I felt was sick, I projectile vomited for hours wondering when my life would come to an end, when would these damn pills kick in? The night went on and I just continued to be sick, my body clearly trying to fight against the pills, I felt drowsy and finally thought that this was it. I said goodnight and good bye to my dog then to my parents, heading to bed feeling hyped up with hope that when I closed my eyes I would never open them again. Before I knew it, it was morning time, it hadn’t worked. I was so angry and furious with myself that it hadn’t worked, the dark cloud still dwelling on me hard making me feel even worse about this failed attempt. I had plans that Saturday with my friends but with the continued sickness I had to cancel, obviously not telling them the real reason why I was vomiting- another excuse. That’s what my life felt like it was made up of, excuses, excuses to my friends why I didn’t want to hang out, excuses to my family as to why I didn’t want to come out my room for a few days and excuses why I had been crying uncontrollably for hours. Anyone with depression will understand what I mean with the excuses, sometimes it couldn’t be helped, you could be so excited with the idea of going out and having fun with your friends when all of a sudden the uncontrollable darkness would come and you couldn’t fight it, no matter how hard you tried. The excuses become more frequent and over used so then that leads to being excluded from everything because no one expects you to go in the first place, which then leads to burying further down into the hole you were already in. Depression is a constant cycle, a cycle you just can’t seem to get out of. Yes sometimes the cycle from one step to another is longer and the depression might not come to the surface for months, years even, but it is still there. The cycle still continues. I started writing this letter in early 2016, adding bits to it when I was at my lowest, I use this letter as a means to curb the darkness. It is now the 25th of November 2017, the letter continues and I am very much alive, very much depressed. Things got bad for a while, with the stress of work, the stress of money, but I never wrote on this letter thinking I could just ignore this feeling. I thought it went away, but now with a new massive issue in work its resurfaced worse than ever. I feel the same way I did on the day of the 13th of February. I’m scared for my own health, I’m scared for what I might do to myself, and I have no control at this point. Things are hard the now. Stressing over the issue in work, the dread of going back knowing everyone will be talking about it, I don’t want to go back but I have to. Can’t just hide from it forever, even though I wish I could. Another thing happened, that usually I would just let it go and try to not let it affect my feelings but I can’t help it. I was seeing a guy for a couple months, he was different really. A genuinely nice guy, wasn’t looking for sex, took me out on dates and made me feel so special. He met a couple of my friends, which was a big step because I’ve never introduced my friends to a guy I was with, they all thought he was a lovely guy too. He is, he still is a lovely person but yet another person who made me feel guilty for expressing how I felt. I told him how I felt about a situation that had just happened (him ignoring me but looking at my messages and posting pictures of him on a night out). I simply said that I was annoyed at how rude it came across because he was clearly on his phone but being blatantly ignorant to me, which he normally was never like, I felt like I was very justified and if I done that to him I’d expect the same treatment. It didn’t go well, he got defensive, had such a bad attitude, after ignoring me for 4 days because of it, whilst I was just trying to sort things because I didn’t want it to fuck up like everything else. I suppose that was out of my control though because he still hasn’t spoken to me. I’m usually not one for acting so heartbroken over guys but it’s just made me think because he was such a lovely guy, was it me? What is so wrong with me that things with guys don’t last longer than a few months? I have this constant fear that I’m not good enough, that I am not worthy of love and friendship and even things like good opportunities. I hate that my mind has control over that. I just want to feel good about myself, good about life, positive that things will be better but I can’t. I’m trying so hard to be positive but life is giving me so many reasons to drag me down. I think it’s time for this letter to end, for me to be gone.
To anyone that’s read this, sorry for the ramble, sorry for the probably wasted 15 minutes of reading. But also thank you, thank you for taking the time to read about the depressed 21 year old and if you feel someone else is in this situation, all you can do is offer support, reassurance and a whole lotta love.
Catch yous on the flip flop.