A Story That You Shouldn’t Read Before Bed

 

 

“Sometimes I just think depression’s one way of coping with the world. Like, some people get drunk, some people do drugs, some people get depressed. Because there’s so much stuff out there that you have to do something to deal with it.”

-Ned Vizzini

 

   It was a pitch-black night, the 7-year-old girl was crying her eyes out without making any sound. If she made any kind of noise, her mother, who was sleeping next to her, would wake up and she didn’t want that to happen. She knew that her mother must have been tired and she’s going to work again in the morning. She should at least let her sleep well.

   She had the habit of checking her mother’s breath every now and then. She’d cry hoping that God doesn’t take the precious soul of her mother. How would she live without her? Life would be unbearable. She’d pray with the pure soul of hers that God takes her soul before her mother. Then she’d think all over again. She knows that her mother would be so sad if she dies. So, she’d cry and beg for God again that he takes both of their souls at the same time. This is the only solution her innocent mind could think of.

   She’d wake up in the morning after the heavy night of crying and thinking of death as the only way to survive, go to school and become the ideal child everyone expected her to be. She’d do homework before lunch and tidy her room. Her mother loved how ideal she was. She knew nothing about her little secret of crying each and every night.

   She’d look at her grandma and her teachers and think of them as heroes. She was always curious to know their secret: how were they able to deal with life till they were this old? She thought that maybe it gets easier as one gets older. Maybe it’s hard because she’s young. That’s how she began to wish to get older as fast as possible.

   She knew that her wish was granted when she felt like she didn’t think like those of her age. But it’s strange.. she only felt like she’s older, but things were getting harder. Later on, she found out that she was so naïve for expecting life to be easy. It will never be.

   She went to middle school, some serious suicidal thoughts started to hunt her. Her head started to convince her that she’s a bad person that didn’t deserve to live. “You make everyone’s lives horrible since the day you were born. You’re the reason why everything bad happens. You should die. You deserve to feel all the pain in the world. Just go and kill yourself.”, that’s how mean her thoughts were. Sometimes, she’d grab a knife and put it under her pillow just in case she finally had the courage to kill herself.

   She had so much love for everyone around her and kept the hate for herself only. She felt so much guilt for things that she didn’t have control of. And at some point, she became completely numb. She rarely cried and felt amused when she felt any kind of pain. She felt amused whenever someone told her some mean stuff. She believed that she was being punished for being a really bad girl and she accepted it all. Little did she know that she wasn’t bad at all. Little did she know that she was a victim although she now hates to admit it.

   She suffered alone for many years. That surely taught her to be independent mentally. When someone asked her who she relied on when she faced any kind of problem, she replied with a slight smile: “Myself!”. She had the habit of reading whenever she felt lost hoping to find herself between the words, but still, her long lost precious self was nowhere to be seen. It was buried deep inside of her. She needed someone to rescue her.

   When she turned 15, she finally had the courage to ask for help from her English teacher in high school. She wrote a long paragraph and named it “feeling insecure”. She thought that maybe this person who was always eager to read whatever she wrote would understand, but all she got… was praise.

   When she finally realized that nobody would ever help her, she went back to reading. She bought some books about psychology and started to read them. She tried every solution the books said. She sat in front of an empty chair and imagined all of those people that once hurt her, one by one. Then she started to cry and tell those imaginary people all of the things they did to her. She told them why she’s mad at them. And for the first time ever, she realized that it’s not herself that should be hated, it’s everyone else. And for the first time ever, she realized she was a victim. She ended up hating the world. That’s when they finally noticed it and she was forced to visit a therapist.

   That therapist was awful and never smiled. She eventually stopped going to the clinic after two sessions. She continued on struggling with the little monster that was growing inside of her little by little. She’d smile and laugh all day and at night, when no one was watching, she’d cry her eyes out. “Well, at least I’m not numb anymore. At least I can cry.”, she used to think to herself.

   At some point in her life, she decided that she didn’t want to feel all of these things anymore. She decided to try again and that took so much courage. She decided to go out when her anxiety tried to convince her that everyone thought she’s funny and ugly. She’d laugh with people when they laughed at her. She slowly started to shut her ears. She’d pretend that she’s comfortable although she wasn’t, but at some point, she started to believe that she was. She decided to focus on forgiving everyone around her and stopped bringing the knife to bed. It took her so many years to forgive those people and to forgive herself. But something still lacked.

   She still wanted to die. She still had mental breakdowns. She’d wash the dishes and stare at the knives with empty eyes. The voices in her head were still so mean. She felt like she went back to the start. All of the work she tried to establish in years was gone in a second. She’d cry silently wishing she had the courage to give everything up. That’s when she decided to seek professional help. This time, she wasn’t forced..

   The first time she went to the clinic, she was shaking. She was all alone. She didn’t know if it was going to work. The therapist then opened the door with a smile! She felt welcomed. It was so hard to talk for the first time, but eventually, it got easier. During her therapy, she thought of quitting so many times, but she’s happy now that she didn’t give up.

   On 22^nd December, 2020, my therapist told me that I finally got over depression. She told me that I made it and that I should celebrate. Although I still have a long way to go with antidepressants, I did celebrate and gave chocolate to random strangers. I cried out of happiness that day. I was standing on a balcony and didn’t think of throwing myself for the first time ever. It’s been so hard. But it’s worth it. The happiness I felt that day is indescribable. It felt as if life gave birth to me all over again.

   My therapist was the first person to make me feel like my feelings were valid and that I wasn’t overreacting. I’ve been struggling with depression since I was a little kid and I finally have a glimpse of hope!

   If you’re struggling with depression too, I hope that there comes a day when you get to experience that indescribable happiness of healing. I hope you never give up on your precious soul that deserves every little beautiful thing in this world. I hope there comes a day when you open up about it because it’s not shameful that your soul is aching. It only means that you’ve been trying to do your best to survive and I’m totally proud of you, proud of us..