de·pres·sion

/dəˈpreSH(ə)n/

Noun

feelings of severe despondency and dejection.

Depression is an overwhelming affliction that over 300 million people of all ages from around the world suffer from. All ages. Children are born into homes that are unloving and in which the people are detached from each other causing them to feel alone and broken in this world they were forcefully brought into. Teenagers are brought into this world and forced to fulfill their parents hopes and dreams as if they are their parents themselves. They are pushed and lugged into a school system where people say there is no tolerance for bullying, yet everywhere you go, every corner one turns, there’s a brute waiting to pry your fingers open so you can grasp onto their every harmful word. Adults are lead into workforces of their choosing and have to choose such things carefully depending on who works where and what said person thinks of them. Depression is unfurling like a heavy quilt on humans and, frankly, it’s terrifying. How do people live with this excruciating cloud constantly hovering over your head and encircling your brain? They act. They put on a fake smile and they wake up in the mornings, get dressed, brush their teeth, lock their apartment door and go into the world in which we live in. I have this medical illness, and here I am - 11 years later - still pushing through life. After bullying, deaths and failed suicides, here I am.

It all began when I entered kindergarten. I was overweight and had curly fries as hair. I had a turned up nose similar to that of a pig and dark brown (almost black) eyes. My peers never really liked me. More importantly, they never liked the way I looked. See, that shows a lot of where the world was headed and no one caught on to the trend until it was far too late. I was picked on constantly and never really knew what to do with myself. I was called “Chucky” from the movie, Child’s Play. I was called Annie, Shirley Temple, and Wendy. They even called me Wilbur. I didn’t allow it to bother me until I had time to think one night. I thought about every word anyone has ever said to me that was anything but nice and I cried.  I cried and let all of those names permanently settle into my brain, but I never showed anyone how I felt. I put on a smile and I went to school. It was, and still is, the only way to survive. Ask my grandfather; he would know.

I was always extremely close to my grandfather. He was always there for me when I need him and always gave me a shoulder to lean on. Until December 18th, 2012. My grandfather died from a whole slew of heart and lung problems and that hurt a lot. I know you’re probably thinking, “Oh, she’s a wimp. I’ve had grandparents die, too and I’m fine!” I never got to say goodbye to my grandfather. He left the world while I was at school and I had begged and pleaded to go to Jackson General Hospital to see him that day. Blaming myself for allowing him to give up pushed me further into depression and I sunk. But wait. That’s not all.

December 9th, 2016. My best friend and I have been such since kindergarten. She, along with my family, is the only reason I’m still alive. We’ve been there for each other since we met and I couldn’t ask for a better best friend, or more like sister - apparently, I wasn’t doing my job. I was at a Christmas Parade on the 9th. I was performing and she was supposed to be, too. I searched and searched for her, excited for our first parade together in our high school career, but she was nowhere to be found.

I approach her boyfriend at the time and ask him where she is. He gives me a look, and I immediately call her. She doesn’t pick up. I call her mother and her mother answers in a small, weak voice. My best friend attempted suicide that morning and never called me, never talked to me before she did it, nothing. She tried to kill herself and I was the last person to find out. Being unable to be there for her during one of the hardest times of her life was really difficult for me and remains that way to this day. I sunk farther into the pit of despair they call depression and I knew no way out.

But I kept my head up. I kept my head up and I smiled. I visited her as often as I could. I waited for her to want to talk about the whole situation. I got better with her. I am still getting better, and so is she. Even though I’m not fully healed yet, I am getting better. I’m healing and I’m learning to love myself and to love life. I’m learning to smile genuinely and not fakely. I’m living with depression and I’m getting better. I know it’s cliche, but I’m gonna say it. It does get better. Life is a gift. Don’t waste it. Do your best to stay positive, and when you fall short, pick yourself up again. If you do end up falling into the black hole of depression, keep your head up. Stay positive and you will not only survive, but you will thrive.

A.N.

I'd like to thank each one of you for reading this story of some of the hardships in my life. If you relate, I am sympathetic and hope you are healing as I am. Thank you <3