Depression and its many voices.

 

‘With a new attitude, everything can change. Make it how you want it to be. Life’s what you make it. Make it rock.’

 

You sit isolated in a room. The light outside is bright, to others; not to you. You imagine yourself a prisoner; a prisoner of your mind. A prison you can’t free yourself from. Everyday feels the same, there is no improvement, no self-worth. You consider life pointless, life being something that should be disregarded. You don’t want to move, your still feel groggy from your late night thoughts. Thoughts which terrorize you, make you feel empty inside. The voice in your head doesn’t leave you, it stays manipulating your thoughts, telling you that you shouldn’t be happy. That you’re destined to a life of living miserably. It tells you that people hate you. It reminds you over and over, like it’s stuck on loop, that you don’t deserve happiness and you don’t deserve to live.

 

You despise yourself. You hate your appearance, hate that you have no confidence, and none to gain. You feel trapped in between the four walls that you have become accustomed to. Your prison cell. Every time you force yourself to play happy, the voice cancels it, and returns you to being miserable.

 

These are the thoughts which destroy you during depression. They are thoughts which haunt you every day and night. Depression is hard to understand, and it may seem stupid to someone who hasn’t experienced. ‘Just get over it.’ Someone might say, someone who feels good about themselves. They don’t realise that there is a voice inside of you that they are can’t hear. A voice that has stopped any attempt of finding happiness. It recoils you, straight back to a simulation of hell.

 

My depression story started in 2013…

It wasn’t as bad at first. I was a victim to bullying, and I kept myself locked away. I attended school regularly, although it took an immense amount of courage to do so. For I was scared. I took everything the wrong way and hid in the safe confines of Midpoint. (A safety room at the secondary school I attended.) But those days, were happy days, compared to the days that would follow.

Early 2014, I lost it. I became shyer, I kept myself locked away, not just on a regular basis, but every day. I had been destroyed, I had been made to feel like that there was nothing in life that could offer me happiness. I saw no happy future. I hated everything. All I wanted was to be alone, where no one could hurt me. A place where I could rummage through my thoughts. There were times when I would be happy, watching Undertaker for one. But most of the time I was suffocated in sadness and hatred for myself. I considered myself a waste of space. I had nothing to offer.

School became unbearable. I was scared to walk into class, turn a corner. I was slowly growing larger. I was self-conscious about myself. I would await those moments where I could receive those sparks of happiness; which were rare.

 

When Undertaker had lost his streak, this sounds stupid now, but at the time, it wasn’t. Everyone, brother’s included, made me feel like rubbish. Not that I wasn’t feeling like it already. I ended up believing that it was my fault. That if I wasn’t walking on this earth, the streak wouldn’t have ended. This seems stupid to me in hindsight, but to my fourteen-year-old self, Undertaker was the only thing keeping me going.

 

I isolated myself more often, and it wasn’t long until I started punching myself in the face, multiple of times, just to ignore the pain which I was feeling. I had contemplated suicide, and even carried a razor with me in my bag. But then I found spirituality, kind of. I was researching like crazy. I found a love for ghost hunting. I was returning back to normal. I was happy again. It didn’t last long, again I sank, even lower.

 

I was tired. I was back where I was: hating myself. Mid 2015, depression had returned. Again, weight was piling on. I researched many different diets, but I was too weak to attempt any. I found myself sitting staring back into space, hoping I could be saved and returned back to happiness. I grew even more self-conscious. I hated myself. Lessons that I went to, I stayed scared the whole time. If someone looked at me, I thought bad things. I would run out of school, hide in the school toilets. I would start staying of school, a lot more often. Scared to show my face, scared of what might happen to me. But, Midpoint was my safe place. There, no one, not even myself could hurt me.

 

As the year of 2015 progressed, I was going even deeper. No amount of counselling could do anything for me. I lied, scared to tell the truth. My attendance at school was poor. And when I was at school. I returned to my accustomed routine of hiding away from Midpoint. Even with assistance in class, was I too scared to walk through the classroom door, to improve my education, which I had disregarded. Education wasn’t important to me. I wasn’t even important to me. I had the hobby of ghost hunting and wrestling, but they were temporary escapes.

 

The first half of 2016 was when my depression had hit the pinnacle of being at its worse. I felt completely fed up, tired and all my energy had gone to convincing myself to try and make myself something. March to June was a blur. I seemed to be waking up, because I had no choice but to. The school had given me non GSCE days off, just to give me time to recuperate. For my GCSE’s I sat alone with just a teacher, in the sensory room. I didn’t care if I failed or passed them.  I was at my heaviest at the weight of 12 stone 4, and I was disgusted with myself. I hated people looking at me, just as much as I hated myself.

 

When I left school, for what I thought would be the last time. I was relieved, but I hadn’t had arranged a course at college. And it wasn’t until the end of June 2016, one week before taster day, was something arranged for me. I attended the college taster day on June 28^th 2016 and spoke to nobody, except from a teacher and someone I knew from my secondary school. I was scared, wondering if I was getting myself into something that would worsen my state of mind.

 

But this day was a turning point for me. Over the next few days, I wanted to change. Something from inside of me told me, now was the right time. After a few days of discovering the problem, and a long hard look in the mirror, did the discovery come to me. I was overweight.

 

I decided to embark on a weight loss journey, and I was determined to lose three stone by the time college started. Every day, I would eat less than five hundred calories and workout two hours a day. And if I wasn’t satisfied with my effort, would I go down stairs and perform one last workout.  

 

Slowly, I felt myself returning. The same person which was under the weight of forty plus pounds. Every pound I lost, I started feeling happier. And sick too, but I was losing the weight at a vast pace. And I had achieved what I set out to do. By the time, College came around, I was three stone, two lighter. Nine stone 2. I had done it. But the battle was far from over. I was happy again, but my eating was bad. I had developed an eating disorder, a need to over exercise. I was scared of putting on weight. I had heard the stories of people putting on the weight they lost again. But it wasn’t going to allow that to happen to me. And now I sit here typing this almost two years later, I am Nine stone 4. Two pounds heavier, but I had succeeded myself. I have a fitness level that three years ago, I would have never dreamed of. I can work out for hours a day. Run 26.2 miles in a quick time. My mind-set, which had been destroyed, is now indomitable. I’ve learnt to think highly of myself, and not worry what others may think.  Although, I still have a lot to learn about myself, the days of depression is over. I want nothing but to succeeded in life, and use the past to motivate me, drive me forward to success. The days of isolating myself is over, the days of wishing my life away is over. I am human. I am unbreakable.

 

Everyone who has ever felt bad about themselves, deserve happiness. Everyone who has ever contemplated suicide, should feel proud that they had passed those thoughts. But everyone on this planet deserves happiness. There is a life to live.  No one has the right to make you think less of yourself, not even you. One day, for sure, every tough time, every bad experience will be deemed worth it. Everyone has something to offer and, no pun intended to my novel I’m writing: One things for sure, no matter what your current situation is. You’ll Always Find Your Way Back Home.