Entries tagged with "depression"
As I started packing tonight I came across my old journal that I started in 2003 when I was 12. as I started flipping through it I began to cry uncontrollably. Sometimes I forget miserable I was. and how close I came to ending my own life. All of a sudden the pain and depression came rushing back to me making it hard to breath. I remember this feeling.
I can’t help feeling angry. WHY DID NO ONE REALIZE I NEEDED HELP?! I wish I could talk to my younger self and tell her everything was going to be alright. That things would work out. That mom would stop drinking. That dad really did care and not to blame myself for all the fights, arguments, and tears.
But I can’t. Whatever. Fuck it. Things are better now. And I feel untouchable. Almost.
I’m 21 years old and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I am funny, charming, smart, and have a pretty face… but I am overweight, and I always have been. I don’t have unsightly fat rolls or anything, but I do have very large hips, legs, arms, and an unnaturally huge ass. I’ve been dieting and working out for as long as I can remember, but to no avail. I fear that sooner or later, I’ll have to just accept that this is how I am… but as of now, I just can’t. I hate everything about my body, and no one understands, because none of my friends or family are overweight. Guys never want to date me… they only want to have sex with me, in secret. I do my best to stay positive but at night, when I’m laying in bed alone, I can’t help but wonder, ‘Why me? Why was I born like this, when my best friends were born perfect and beautiful? Why aren’t there any good men out there that will see me for who I am inside, instead of the size of my body? When is it going to be MY turn to be happy?’
No one knows how depressed and lonely I truly am, and I hate that I can’t talk to anyone about it. The few times I’ve tried, all anyone has to say is, “Be patient, you’ll find someone when you least expect it.” Thanks for trying, but that is honestly the last thing I want to hear. I’m very quickly losing faith.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but it sucks. I feel like a huge bitch for saying that. And the problem isn’t even really happening to me. But I still feel the effects.
My little sister has depression. And I feel like it’s ruining the whole family. Everyone is always so stressed trying to figure out how to help her, how to deal with it. We all want to, we just don’t know how. All she ever does is yell at people, and if you ever try to talk to her, her only response is some bitchy comment. I love her, but I hate what she is doing. She yells at my mom all the time, and I hate it. All I want to do is leave the house, to get away. But I can’t. I try to stay strong. I know I can’t run, I need to stay, and try and be supportive, but it’s so hard with how she acts. No one wants to be around her, then she complains about it and yells more. I want to yell back, but that wouldn’t help anything, would it?
All her Facebook status’ are always about death and sadness. Suffering and how bad her life is. When it’s not bad at all. I just really wish she could see what life really is, instead of how she sees it.
I’m scared that when I leave to go back to school, she won’t be here when I come home.
I am suffering from depression and it is ruining my college experience, I’ve had a hard life but I am so proud of what I have come to be. But for the last four months, I’ve been to a place I haven’t been to in years. I’m refusing to give up on myself but I’m dying to be myself again.
My name is Tali. I am 21. A recently discovered gay woman. What I have been working on recently is not knowing things. I realize that inherently fucks with this project and for that I am sorry. I have spent my life thinking I had myself and the world all figured out. I don’t. For the first time in my life I can say that I feel emotional and personal growth. No intellectual bullshit. Real fucking emotion. The type that you have to lay in bed, cry on the street corner, and fuck random people to process. The type that oozes from your conscience, subconscious, and heart all at the same time. My name is Tali I just broke up with my first love and for the first time in a long time, I feel like a raw, real human being should. Open-ended, beautiful, unknowing, and entranced by the delicious ambiguity of NOT KNOWING.
I just discovered the identity of my ex’s new girlfriend; and I am wondering, what does she have that I do not possess? The pain is indescribable. I thought I had gotten over it, but apparently not. My heart is shattered all over again, and all I want to do is curl up and cry. But I gotta live and move on, because there are other people who need me in their lives; and who I mean the whole world to. And I know that one day, I will be happy once again.
But right now, I need to have a good cry.
I’ve been in love with the same person for the last 26 years. He was my first boyfriend, my first kiss… Life separated us for 18 long years, he got married, had two kids, and me, I just lived on.
Last year, he finally decided to separate from his wife and come back to me. It’s been almost three months. He is now depressed because he misses his kids so much. He is hurting badly.
I cannot do anything but be there. How long will it take for him to adjust? Will he ever adjust to the new reality? As far as I can see, he is angry with himself and is not letting me help in anyway. I am very afraid he will go back to his family.
And at 40 I am again, alone.
I have a prosthetic will. Every night I swallow a few pills, white and nondescript. They’re what keep me alive; the pills help control my suicidal urges. Some nights, as I fall asleep, I’ll hear whispering, disembodied malevolences telling me all the ways I deserve to suffer. You’ve probably seen me, though I’m like the pills I swallow: white and nondescript. I’m the person you see who’s somewhat reserved but calm and happy to talk. I’m the one who often looks deep in thought and maybe seems to be completely content. I promise you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. You know what I’ve noticed though? The days I hear a broken, suicidal record player in my head and the days I’m optimistic are indistinguishable to you. Your days are indistinguishable to me too. If you know me, I beg you, speak to me. I represent more than just the author of this. I need more than fragile prosthetics to keep going.
I weaned off of Paxil over the summer. It was a long and painful process, but I’m finally done. Unfortunately, my anxiety and depression is coming back full-force. It’s eating me away and I don’t know what to do about it.
I’m beginning to think I’m always going to need medication. And that terrifies me.
I lie to my boyfriend every day.
I tell him I don’t know why I’m so exhausted all the time, or why I can’t sleep like a normal person. I tell him I’ll ask my doctor about my sleeping problems.
None of that is true.
My depression’s taking such a hold on me. I can’t even bring myself to lift my head up enough so I’m not constantly looking at the floor. I always blame it on being tired. I laugh at things I shouldn’t laugh at so he will think that, though I’m tired, I’m happy.
He tries so hard. I can’t bear to let him know that my disease is back, and that this time he can’t fight it.
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