Confessions of An Anxious Girl

Explaining My Depression

Trying to explain my depression is like saying I'm drowning but I'm still breathing. Everyone tells me "Just get outta bed. It's not that hard." But how can I even muster the energy to move when my depression creeps up on me like a fog in the night and has me stay in the comfort of my bed under my warm covers. Most days I can ignore it and get shit done. But sometimes it gets the best of me and I stay in my bed and sleep my life away.

I hear these voices. They're usually quite, where I can barely hear them. But then other times they're loud. Consuming my entire brain. They say I'm worthless. I'm fat. Ugly. That I do not deserve to live. When the voices are that bad I put in my headphones and I blare my music until I can't hear my mother calling when she needs me. She tells me I'm going to go deaf because of how loud my music is. How do I explain to her that I'd rather be deaf than hear those awful voices.

People tell me "Ask for help. Get professional help." I have told them I've tried everything. And when I say everything I mean everything. I've tried self medicating. I'd puff and puff on a joint until there was nothing left to smoke. When I finally did tell my mom how bad it was she took me to therapy. As if talking to a complete stranger would help me. It didn't. Eventually I was put on medication. I would try every pill they gave me and if it didn't work they would just prescribe me a different one. Pill after pill, like I was some meaningless lab rat in their experiment to cure depression. I guess they don't know that you either learn to live with it or you let it kill you.

I have thought about letting my depression win. I have thought about what it would be like to be dead. Maybe I will finally be happy. But what will I say to my family in that note I write. How will my sister feel when she has to tell her kids I killed myself because I wasn't strong enough to handle life. Will they be depressed after I'm gone?

I once heard this quote. It goes like this;
"Suicide doesn't take away your depression. It just passes it on to someone else." I believe that. So do I learn to live with my depression? Or do I kill myself and pass on the depression to my family?