I have visions of myself being dragged in the corridors of a hospital, with me kicking and screaming, “I hate myself. I can’t do this anymore.” Every day seems like a desperate cry for help when you’re living with depression. But then I ask myself, “can you afford to live with depression?” How can anyone who works more than eight hours a day, and has so much responsibility ‘afford’ to be mentally ill? So, instead of seeking help, every day becomes an exercise in which I pull myself together, try to stay in touch with my family and let the few friends I have, know that I exist.
It’s the loneliest I have ever been. Constantly being stressed is not helpful when you’re constantly lonely. You cry in loud bursts and feel guilty for seeking help. There are times I type messages to my best friend and my family only to delete them. “Hey mom, I don’t remember who I used to be…” Backspace. “Hey, I am tired of constantly feeling tired. Will I ever be okay?” Backspace. “Hey, I am so scared no one will ever want to date me. No one will ever love me.” Backspace, backspace, backspace.
I feel so suffocated that sometimes I want to shout out loud, “I am not okay!” I feel like I can’t share this with people who love me because I just can’t afford to stress them out. Many of them have problems they’re dealing with, and it can be so triggering to just listen to someone who has no “valid” reasons for feeling the way I do.
I have forgotten how to masturbate since depression struck me. I aimlessly rub myself sometimes, only to realise I feel nothing. Zero. Zilch. For someone who used to be very sexually driven and active, I feel like I’ll never have sex again.
The thing is, when you constantly feel inadequate and not good enough for your family and friends, how can you love yourself? How can you pleasure yourself and ‘feel’ anything? I try and try hard to think of people I’ve been with, to think of people I feel attracted to, but my thoughts only lead me to my stress and anxiety. After a year of trying, I know I feel completely disinterested, detached and just not ‘worth it’.
I have cried right through writing this piece, and right now, I feel slightly better. Slightly lighter. I wish more people would understand that sometimes, the biggest struggle for someone as seemingly okay as me, can just be getting out of bed. I wish I had more avenues to share, howl and cry. I just want to be able to say I am not okay without being asked a hundred questions. Sometimes I feel, “Who’d ever want to be friends with someone as dysfunctional, as broken as me?” At other times I ask, “Who’ll love someone as broken as me?” In times of intense self-pity and doubt, it sucks to feel suffocated from the inside.
But I know there are so many good people out there who’re silently listening and it is with them I want to share this piece. If you are one of them, thank you for reading. Just you reading this makes me feel heard, and less guilty for adding to your thoughts and emotions, because I don’t know you personally. I am sorry if this was a random-as-hell, unexpected read, but even then, thank you. I am glad that we’ve broken the stigma around depression to the extent that I can at least share such intimate feelings openly. #LetsTalk