I remember the first time my depression hit me hard. I was 19 and it was close to the holidays which I always got really excited about even when my husband and I were struggling to make ends meat in Athens, but it was 2005 and we moved back home and I remember buying him a PSP (they were so popular) and on the way to Wal-Mart I just slumped. I wasn’t happy about it…I wasn’t happy about anything. I thought it was just stress and it would get better but it didn’t. It was at this age we determine that it onset and I never did anything about it or got treatment for it because I was naive and thinking if I ignore it that it would go away. I couldn’t be depressed right? What did I have to be depressed about I wasn’t one of those people. I tried to justify it to make myself understand why I am feeling this way it was because of what happened to me it has to be that is the only thing that makes sense. I never understood depression and I held the same stigma too it that everyone else did. I tried a therapist once before (there is an entire post dedicated to therapy.) I eventually went to see someone a few times but it didn’t help anything. I hid it the best I could made it seem like I could brush it off and if I tried hard enough ignore it until it went away.
There is a gentleman on Instagram who has a page Don’t suffer in silence #dsis and when I started to read about peoples lives I realized I made myself suffer in silence for too long. I wonder now what would’ve happened if I was really honest with myself and got help when I first realized I needed it. What would’ve changed? Would I still end up at the hospital?
My depression is a forever train wreck in my mind.