Lost in Reality [pokémon Ranger Fanfiction]

Closing Notes

WARNING MY LIFE STORY AHEAD 

Hi, my beautiful, fabulous readers! Dragons_Rose in here! Just call me Rose though. I thought I should probably end with a little note and explanation. And some acknowledgments.

Let's start out with why I wrote this story.

I'm not secret about it, I've had depression since I was a young kid. A lot of things Kate experienced were based on my own nightmares and breakdowns. But I carried a super bubbly, happy, smile everywhere I went. I carried that personality on here too. So much so, that when I told people what went on inside my head, I got the "but you don't look depressed." I mean, even my parents gave that to me. Or the "Well everyone gets depressed now and then." My therapists were confused on how I continued to smile as I talked about every toxic thought that strangled me at night. People laugh awkwardly at how chipper-like I tell people I've already lost a friend to suicide, or that I thought about killing myself.

It's funny too since depression can often be traced in families, and you'll see my mom, my grandpa, my grandma, my two uncles-- all had a mental illness that followed them through their lives. I learned in my psychology class and biology class (both in high school and college) that it can be hereditary/genetic. And that's what it was for me.

It was so hard for people to understand that I've been fighting this darkness for so many years. When I was thirteen, I held a blade over my wrist, ready to end it all. I stopped myself, but I didn't ever start seeking help until my junior year and senior year of high school. I was doing better in therapy, but then I went off to college.

Don't get me wrong, college was great, and I met so many amazing people. It was also when I had one of the biggest relapses I've had. I was at work, ran to the bathroom to cry and I couldn't stop crying. My co-worker came in and tried to calm me down but nothing helped. I took the day off and went back to my dorm. I missed all of my classes, because every moment I was awake, horrible thoughts clawed at my mind and kept the tears flowing. I psychically just couldn't stop sobbing. It was like that for three days straight.

My boyfriend knows I'm depressed, and he's depressed too. And so he knew this was definitely a really bad episode. He had worked with the on-campus therapy in the past, and so he urged me to go and-- well, get some help. Because I had been teetering on this breakdown for months. I've been having small breaks at least every other week.

I listened to him. I went to on-campus therapy and this story began. At first, it was just some draft letters to friends and families explaining my depression and the storm that constantly spiraled in my head. We talked them over in therapy, and my therapist recommended that I talk with a doctor about antidepressants.

I had contemplated them for a couple years, but never really talked to anyone. When I told my dad about the possibility, he was very abrasive about it.

To sort it all out in my mind, this story began. It was a bit of a cathartic piece, let me pour out my fears and thoughts onto the page. I made Kate. This strong hero I always aspired to be. She faced down the embodiment of darkness itself and came out the other side. This well-beloved by everyone character. She was kind of my perfect fodder.

I started to want to write this story for others. I wanted others to know that this is a horrible battle that so many people fight, that probably many of you are fighting too. And I know when it gets so deep, that people take one of two options. They find help or end it all. I already had a friend choose the latter.

I decided to find help. For some of the smallest and stupidest reasons. Because I didn't want to continue disappointing people or bringing others down.

  I've been on antidepressants for a while, and those were the right path for me. It's a slow process. But, little by little, I'm noticing I'm getting better. The voices are just a bit quieter when I go to bed at night.