Stories on Depression: Check Up on Those Quiet People Who Check Up on You
Depression is debilitating.
Some people understand it, some think it’s an attention call. For me, depression is like that pile of laundry that you don’t want to show in your Instagram pictures. I never want to show my pile of laundry to the world, I want my life to seem happy and put together as if I folded and put away all my laundry right out of the dryer.
Ever since high school I have suffered with extreme depression and anxiety. I can defend the issue for hours and hours, however I get embarrassed when I feel sad. I get so embarrassed when I am sad and those around me do not understand and treat me as if I’m crazy.
Typically most of my life I’ve always just been called dramatic when I’m upset. It has become one of my biggest triggers, because most of my life I haven’t had that fight to defend it. I just, quite simply, let it eat at me.
Depression can be the hardest when others just don’t understand you. I get sad for no reason so often that I’ve created safe spaces. In our current home, my safe place is my bathroom floor. Probably about at least three times a month you can find me locked in my bathroom on the floor, crying. The lock on that door is the only form of power I feel I have at that moment.
I see you.
I share this because it’s real, I share this because everyone has that pile of laundry.
I know everyone may not have depression, but everyone has something hard they’ve experienced, everyone has something to share and everyone has something to relate to.
Many times I have found myself on that bathroom floor contemplating life and how to make it past that very moment, will I? I have to say how thankful I am that I haven’t followed through. Life is so hard. Sprinkle on some depression, heck, dump it on – and life is now even more hard.
Please don’t ask me how I can be so sad I could contemplate suicide. Because honestly I do not know, nor do most people in that situation. How did we make it to this moment? What did I do to deserve this sorrow?
You never know who is hurting. Those who are, we often are the most resistant, waiting for a hand to be held out for us to grab onto as the pressure of our mental being closes in on us.
Check up on those who are quiet, those who check up on you; maybe conversation is being sparked due to their need to communicate.
Let’s talk about our hard times, it’s healing, not embarrassing.
So, here’s my laundry pile. You’re not alone.
Story by Anonymous
Every Friday, we share and talk about depression among young people! Share your story with us via firstname.lastname@example.org