Project Depression: Your Story

@miaamigo's Story.

** Please bear in mind this story contains mention of crime, self-harm, sexual harassment, abuse, and suicidal thoughts so if these trigger you, please skip this chapter.

I don't think I remember when things actually started getting bad. I'm sure there were signs that I didn't recognise then. And I probably don't even now.

I was 7th grade when I made a new friend. It was a relief to have her because my best one then was shifting schools and honestly at the age of 12, how much could I keep in touch? (We are kinda in touch though). She was a new kid and we became friends really fast. Now that I look back, it was way too fast. I started getting onto the wrong path. It wasn't her fault. It was completely mine. I got a false sense of pride from doing the things I was. A lot of the I don't feel guilty about now but regret. I was stealing without realising I was actually STEALING. If that makes sense. I knew stealing was bad but I wasn't quite aware that it was what I was doing. I got caught one day and my parents were distraught and my mom kept saying- 'Where did I go wrong' and I took an oath to never talk about it or repeat it (I haven't). Even my family for reasons I don't know made me understand that it's wrong and never spoke of it again. I started cheating in exams around that time as well. I bunked a class.

Bunking class was a normal thing for some but I felt so bad later. I never bunked any class after that. And as fast as the friend was there, she was not. She started getting distant next year after we got separated into different sections. It was hard at first because I was used to being her only friend. In all honesty, I was jealous. But I made a new friend (who bears with me no matter how much of a sucky person I am) and things got better.

I started going back to how things were before 7th grade.

It was 9th grade and the ex-friend was in my class again. We have a system of the same set of students being there in the 9th and 10th grade. I slowly saw the girl change into this doll. I no more recognised her. But the thing was, we still mildly talked. It just wasn't the same. She became this doll I loathed. But I couldn't stop being amused by her. I had seen a version of her that nobody will ever see again. And that is probably where it started. Jealousy took over me and started slowly retreating from her and that made me stand alone. I no more wanted to do things she wanted to do so I always refused. All of a sudden, I was alone. Everyone would be happy eating lunch and talking while I awkwardly hoped not to be seen alone. I thought I'd make new friends and although I did, the loneliness never went away. And it only grew stronger. I didn't want to be with anything anymore. And with the growing loneliness, I started becoming aware of the fact that I was scared now. I was scared of things I had never been beforehand. Some things in the past had never scared me but all of a sudden, they were all I could think of. I couldn't even stand on stage without being scared. I started talking to my closest and most trustworthy friend because talking makes it better right? But it never did. Even then, I felt lonely. I felt dead. Little did I know that was the start.

I only got worse from there. I barely remember much. But I remember having summer break and losing the interest to do anything and staying in my room all day. I slept for almost 12 hours a day. I started crying for no reason and it frustrated me so much that I didn't know why I was crying.

I started scratching my hand. I started with my own nails and the moved to this plastic thing which was broken. I had told myself I could control how bad it got. It eventually got blunt and the day I realised that, I went into a frenzy. And I shifted to scissors and when I didn't have that, I used staple pins or glass from broken glass bangles. It was a small thing. Barely visible.

And then I got in contact with this person online who I met through a mental health post. She was helping me to figure out how I was feeling. She was no professional but it helped. And my mom found out. She flipped out and wanted to know why. So I told her. I actually had looked up the signs of depression multiple times by then and it angered me that I wasn't able to stop. My mom kept saying that she was unable to understand me. In all honesty, she doesn't. She is the person that thinks that I shouldn't be sad without a reason. She compared my sadness and scratching to my sister's temper tantrums. They were very different things. I got in contact with my school therapist and she couldn't understand either.