In light of all the #MentalHealth conversations coming up especially on #Depression and #suicide…
Sometimes these things don’t bother us and don’t make sense unless you put a face to it or it happens to someone you know or hits you personally.
Like many people, I used to think depression was one of those #WhitePeopleProblems. Something spoilt brats or weaklings or lazy people use as an excuse. So what if you were feeling sad? Life is hard enough on everyone but you don’t see the rest of us sulking or refusing to get out of bed.
Then third year happened in campus. In first year I was one of those very vocal people in class. I was actively involved in CU and very active in a few school clubs. Second year, I even became better. I got out of the slump I was in and went back to the fashion loving person I was. Heels and dressing up became the norm. I was happy and free.
Then third year happened. I started feeling a little more sickly than usual. Stomach issues from Timbuktu and back became a daily affair. I missed more classes than I could count. I also started locking myself in my room frequently. I had very close friends but I’d also cut them off. The number of times I’d cry or binge watch series just to survive!
People said I was being lazy and loved sleeping too much. That I liked skiving classes and the few I attended I’d walk out of half way. What they didn’t know is that I’d wake up each day (late as usual) and I’d be set for class when suddenly after breakfast, all hell would break loose. What I didn’t know was that my journey with depression and IBS had just begun. Last year is when I finally discovered the truth.
From then on, things pretty much went downhill. Countless moments where I’d feel too paralyzed to function. Moments where I’d break down and cry till I was numb. Too many times I’d be overwhelmed by everything going wrong. Enough times of isolation. Cutting friends off. Feeling like a constant disappointment and a burden.
To say that depression sucks, is an understatement. It’s a monster that doesn’t discriminate between the black or white race, rich or poor, weak or strong, fat or skinny, sick or healthy… anyone is prone to it and nobody chooses this.
I didn’t think this was serious until I lost someone to suicide and had a very close friend have a psychotic break because of depression that pushed too hard. From then on, I’ve heard from countless people in the same boat.
To those who are directly affected, hugs to you dear; you’re much stronger than you know!
To those who stick by people affected, oh darling, you have no idea how amazing you are.
To those who are starting to take interest in this and are trying to learn, please keep at it, you have no idea the difference you’ll make.