My story is a little bit different from Cydney’s. I come from a bad background. Not a whole lot was good when I was younger. My family was one of those families they made charities for at your school. I didn’t grow up with nice things or pretty dresses and I wasn’t spoiled. Things eventually got better, and we got our own house and I even had my own room. We still struggled. My mom left her husband because he was an abusive asshole and she decided that she rather live poorly than watch me live through that.
All throughout Elementary school, I was bullied. I was made fun of for my teeth (I had really bucked teeth), and I was also called fat and ugly. I got mad. Really mad. So I took my anger out on everyone around me. I started fighting in grade six when a girl in the changeroom made fun of me for still wearing a training bra while all the other girls were in their B-Cup bras. I just got more angry from then on. I soon became anorexic when the fat jokes wouldn’t stop, which eventually led to my bulimia.
In grade eight, it was worse. The guys used to line me and a bunch of other girls up and rate us all from prettiest to ugliest. I always won the ugliest. To cure this kind of bullying, I learned about drugs. I was chain smoking grade eight, popping pills, and smoking weed at age thirteen. I was going downhill, and I’m not saying this is how to get through all the pain, but the only reason why I am still alive is because of how numbed I was. I couldn’t feel anything. And you may think that’s what you want when you feel like there is nothing left for you in the world, but trust me…even when you’re miserable, you still want to feel something.
So I started cutting. Cutting made me feel something. Pain. A different kind of pain from the emotional I got every single damn day. I made them small, though. I didn’t want anyone to see behind the happy face I was putting on. To this day I still don’t have the scars. There are a few faint ones that you can only see if you stare at the spot for a while and know what you’re looking for.
I started dating guys that would make abusive boyfriends look like lovesick loverboys. The worst of them was a guy named Ashton. The relationship was perfect in the begging, then all hell broke lose and he started hitting me. Every day He would hit me, and I took it because I loved him and I thought that if I didn’t, that meant I didn’t love him. Our breakup was world war three. All of my friends hated him and made me swear to never talk to him again. Some wanted me to tell the police. I didn’t. We were both so young and I didn’t want to ruin his life when he could get better. To this day I still don’t know what happened to him.
Ever since Ashton, I have had serious trust issues, and told all of my friends lies about me so that I wouldn’t seem as broken as I was. Everyone bought it. I was never just “Mikayla” with anyone. Even my best friend whom I’ve known for three years now doesn’t get to see the real me because I’m still in the habit of telling people lies about myself. I try so hard not to, but the habit usually always takes over. The only time I’m ever myself around someone is when I start bawling my eyes out.
In grade nine I met my best friend, Cydney. She was so much like me it was kind of scary. When we started getting really close, I realized something new about her. She had depression. When I found this out, I suddenly realized that I felt the same way she did every single day. She didn’t deal with it like I did, though. She didn’t ever go to school. She just laid in bed all day because she was tired all the time. What I didn’t understand was why she did that. Cydney didn’t grow up the way I did. She had birthday parties (I’ve had two birthday parties in my whole life and I’m seventeen), nice things, two parents that lived in the same house and loved each other.
She started getting help. She got to go on pills and got to see a psychologist to help her out. This infuriated me. How could that be fair? I had grown up much worse than she did, and it felt like I needed much more help than she did. I was foolish enough to start hating her for it. I had depression, no one wanted to help me. No one WOULD help me. I tried talking to my mom, but she just blamed it all on lack of sleep, or that I wasn’t eating healthy enough. My whole family told me this. I got no pills, no therapy, and I still had to go to school. She had all these things and got to stay home whenever she wanted. I felt like I was trying harder than her.
The truth was that Cydney was just as bad as I was, but in a different way. She was full of self loathing and lived as a punishment to herself. She had no motivation to get ‘better and no way to make it go away. All that time I had just told her to “Get over it” because at the time it had seemed like she could.
The thing with depression is that it isn’t something you can just get over. It isn’t something that can be cured over night. And the people with depression are almost always that ones that look like they can just simply “Get over it” because they create this mask to show everyone that they’re okay. Because we don’t want to make other people worry about us. And we feel like we have to wear this mask every day of our lives, when really, we’re dying inside. Things like getting up in the morning feels like a chore. Little things could go wrong during the day and the whole day is completely ruined. Just because it seems like you have it worse than someone else, doesn’t mean they’re suffering any less. Depression is real and can occur in anyone. It could happen to that happy talkative girl in your class that seems smiley and bubbly. It could happen to that guy who has those dark circles under his eyes from no sleep and doesn’t seem talk to talk to anyone. Don’t ever tell someone to “Get over it” when they say they feel like they have depression, because even if they don’t they’ll feel alone. No one should be totally alone when battling this sickness.
I’m not making this post to say I had it worse than you. If you feel sad, you have the right to be sad. You can still talk to me, I will never treat you like your battle is not as much work as mine.
I started having problems with depression in grade 8, I’m in grade 11 now. And I’ve been having troubles with anxiety for as long as I can remember. I didn’t know anything was wrong, it was the way I had always been, I never knew any different, I didn’t even know what anxiety was.
In grade 8, I started going to high school. I went from a school with 100 students to a school with 1000 students. I had a lot of trouble adjusting to my new school and my attendance slowly went down. I hit an all time low in grades 9 and 10, I was averaging 1.5 classes a week. I managed to pass my classes just barely, due mostly to my teachers cutting me some slack. Now that I’m in grade 11 I am just starting to get better mostly due to me simply pushing through it.
I have now been to 4 different mental health specialists of sorts. In grade 9 we finally realized something was really wrong. We thought I was sick. I was dizzy, faint, tired, and felt nauseous all the time. We went to my doctor and for months took every different kind of test we could think of, nothing came up. Finally my doctor suggested that I might have a slight problem with depression. I started going to a psychologist. I went to several $100 visits but it went nowhere and we didn’t have the money to pay for any more sessions. After several more visits to my doctor she finally put me on 10 mg of Citalopram or Celexa. Eventually she referred me to a psychiatrist to get a proper diagnosis after the drugs had next to no effect.
The psychiatrist diagnosed me with major depression that had caused anxiety tendencies and upped me to 20 mg then 30 mg of celexa. After almost a year of being on this pill and several more sessions, apparently there was some new information regarding celexa where at 60 mg it can cause heart problems. So we decided to switch me to Prozac for several reasons. 1. It had been around for 30 years or so, so if there were any other side effects they most likely would have been found. 2. It would target my depression more effectively. 3. It had an ‘upper’ so to speak which would hopefully help wake me up in the mornings.
So during the summer I went through the painful process of going off my pills, going through the withdrawal and eventually starting on the Prozac. Which in my opinion never helped and simply made it impossible for me to sleep. So this effectively destroyed my entire summer. By the time school came around again there was no difference. I started going to a volunteer counselor at a mental health hospital hoping it would substitute a psychiatrist, talking to them was nice but didn’t help. Now I’m halfway through grade 11 starting a new semester finally starting to come out of the fog on my own.
My brother is now starting to have problems with depression, he’s been feeling really suicidal. My mom and him went in to see his doctor and found out about a new psychologist that was covered by our medical and he could see almost right away. Today he had his first meeting with them. We discovered that there were several different options that we never knew about that would have been covered or almost covered by our medical. So I am finding out now that for the last 4 years I have been through hell and back with little to no actual help and I could have been getting advice and skills to manage everything I was going through this whole time.
At this point I am just angry. I was talking to my mom about this and asked what her opinion was on why my doctor or psychiatrist didn’t mention any of this. Her answer was they probably didn’t think my depression was serious enough. So what I am getting from this is if I am not suicidal I can’t get help. What they don’t know is. I wanted to die so badly, I actually started using living as a punishment for myself. I wouldn’t allow myself to die because that would be more than I deserved. Maybe if they’d known that I would have gotten more help.
Don’t let this happen to you or anyone you know. If you or someone around you needs help, get it. Don’t let yourself or others throw years of their life away because they don’t think their condition is bad enough, or got misdiagnosed, or they’re afraid. Get help. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you strong. Don’t let your life pass you by like I did because you will regret it.
hmmm, what does a normal day of yours consist of?
Thank you for that. I’m sure you are too. If you ever need to talk I’ll always be here to listen. :)
No not at all. Ultimately it’s your body and you can do what you want with it. If that means you want to send nude pics of yourself you’re allowed. The only problem with sending naked pictures is if the guy you send it to is a dick and puts it up on the internet, so if you do send a pic make sure your face isn’t in it. When I first started sending nude pics I did it for the same reasons and I was a mess. I felt horrible about myself, and eventually I realized that while it’s not necessarily smart to send pics of yourself it’s not morally wrong. Now, I rarely send pics at all and only to people I trust but I’ve learned to accept that sending pics to people I care about doesn’t make me dirty or tainted. It’s your life, you can do what you want with it. And if you decide it’s a mistake and don’t want to do it again. Then don’t do it again, everything you do is for a reason and there’s no sense in regretting something. Just learn from it and move on.
I only have a few websites and phone numbers to give everyone, and I need more. Please send me links if you have any suggestions.
The causes of depression vary from person to person. They could be a number of things…
Everyone deserves love, but first you need to learn to love yourself. You don’t need to hide. You’re a strong person and you deserve to be happy.
Don’t fear being judged. It sounds like you need help and that’s not something to be ashamed of. You will be that happy and optimistic person again, that person isn’t lost. Don’t be afraid to be happy.
No one can understand what it’s like to be depressed unless they’ve been through it themselves. For people that haven’t experienced depression, all they see is “OK you’re depressed. Whatever. I get depressed all the time and I get up and do what I have to do anyway.” What people don’t realize is yes, everyone gets depressed. Everyone has those days where they’re down and just don’t want to get out of bed. But Clinical depression is when it doesn’t go away. When that fog that’s weighing you down never lets up. You can’t just get over that. You need help to get through it. Because it is a sickness. It’s just as real as a twitch or a limp or a stutter, the only difference is that people can’t see it when they look at you. People don’t understand how much it effects every aspect of your life. It kills you slowly from the inside out. But the first step is letting go of the guilt. Because it’s not your fault. You’re not weak. You’re stronger than most just for trying to fight it. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Because it does get easier and you don’t have to throw years of your life away, lost to this disease. Talk to someone. Ask for help. Start here if you want. I’m happy to help.
First and foremost you have to love yourself. You know why? Because no one else matters. If people can’t realize what an awesome person you are then they don’t deserve to be in your life. But what does matter is the way you see yourself. You are your own worst critic. Always will be. But you have to catch those negative thoughts and instead of thinking about the things you don’t like about yourself think of the things you do like. Everyone has flaws. But you just have to get past them because no one’s perfect and that’s a good thing, because how boring would that be? Nothing’s as bad as it seems. Also just a tip people are drawn to people that like themselves and are confident in who they are. Start to love yourself and friends will follow.
If you feel like you can’t get through this yourself, I’ll help you through every step. You’re not alone.
So this blog isn’t just for people with depression. It is for all of you. I have information about depression, but my ask box is open for everyone, no matter what your problem is. If you’re having a bad day, having a hard time at school or at home, if you just need someone to talk to or need advice, I’m here. Talk to me any time and don’t ever think that what you’re going through isn’t good enough to talk about or will be a waste of my time. It isn’t. I will talk to you whenever you need me. My ask box is always open to everyone
Depression can be in all kinds of different people. Sometimes you see a person who has it, and you know they do. But there are others out there that hide it behind fake smiles and laughter. No one thinks they have it because they aren’t sad all the time. People who have depression don’t always look sad, but they feel anxious and alone and empty because they feel like no one can understand them. When they try to speak to their parents about it, they are told they’re “just being a teenager” or “are just going through a phase”. This is more than feeling sad or having really bad days. It takes over your entire life, is sucks the enjoyment out of almost everything you do.