Stories on Depression: My Journey Through Unemployment, Rejection Emails, and Fake Social Media Support
Editor’s note: If you experience suicidal thoughts, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact 0800 200 600 for counseling or Call your closest friend, family member or search for Rehab centers in Uganda and get yourself admitted.
Let me get this off my chest; I am very depressed to the extent that I am now contemplating euthanasia since suicide may turn out to be painful.
What started as a few days of waiting for my job and seed funding applications to be answered has turned to weeks and months of untold misery.
Just to make it clear, I am an Agripreneur who as big plans of making my dreams come true if the right boost comes through. I am talking about improving my goat and coffee farms and rearing rabbits too. Therefore the job applications were sent in the hope that I would secure one to help me fulfill my business dream, not to be employed forever; so when all that boomeranged on me, it hurt, even deeply when the rejections came constantly in my email.
I therefore resorted to applying for scholarships. The process involved bootlicking several reference providers, including my undergraduate professors just to submit a recommendation to the universities of interest and prospective funders. The universities came through with admission letters while the funders felt I wasn’t good enough. Another heartbreak 😞😭😟
To the reader; I don’t want you to compare your situation to mine or anybody else’s because our emotional build-up isn’t the same.
Not to blow my trumpet but I must admit that at one point, my trajectory of events was that of a high achiever, everything was falling into place until I suddenly plunged into a bottomless dark abyss with people telling me to lower my expectations, something I am not willing to do because I didn’t build that way. Yeah, the ego.. not so?
I thought my days of being depressed were left between 2011 and 2016 when I had to do a hard government-sponsored course at university that almost threatened my mental existence. I did not choose to do it, God knows I wanted to be a journalist only to find myself solving calculations in the name of dx/dy. That course just didn’t resonate with my creative juices, I felt empty, I felt cheated on a dream that I had carried since I was nine, looking up to big names like Ernest Bazanye, Lillian Barenzi, and Tim Bukumunhe.
Each time heard Hakim the dream’s baritone, Flavia, Crystal, and Juliana behind the mic, I felt like dashing into those studios. Seeing Julie Gichuru on Tv and later meeting her only precipitated the zeal to concur the communications world but Satan must be working overtime lately.
A two-year contract I had with an NGO expired in January and no organization has deemed it fit to hire me. I have tried. I have gone as far as approaching my parent’s rich friends who ask for all sorts of documents only to dodge my calls. Now that hurt; they should have refunded my stationary money at least. I have tried to sugarcoat, to the donors’ expectations, my business ideas so as to attract funding for my business but it seems they want better liars. The dream though is not about to die, the agribusiness must thrive at some point. Bank loans? No thank you!
I have used all sorts of sleeping pills and anti-depressants but the results have been futile. I have confided in a few individuals but they too have their own problems so I haven’t been helped much and being the type that detests begging, I have had to keep to myself most of the time.
When a friend tried sharing my issue on social media while hiding my identity, her post was awash with cyber love and hugs, people who offered to help me in the comments section with sugar-coated promises only to turn out to be the total opposite when we later interacted. I am in close contact with one of them though and she has been with me all through, going to the extent of finding me a professional shrink. But you know talking without tangible solutions only soothes the pain for a short time only for me to return to my bed and ask; why am I jobless? Why arent my businesses thriving? Why the rejection emails? Why was I born into such a family?
Let’s also note that I have been a prayer warrior for a very long time but circumstances have forced me to seek alternative powers though nothing fruitful has come out yet.
I am not sharing this to call for sympathy or help from individuals because I have been down that road before, I am only doing it to get it off my chest as I find a person to euthanize me, a better option than committing suicide to cause my mother the pain of a tragic loss of an only child.
May you never go through this.
Story by Anonymous
Every Friday, we share and talk about depression among unemployed young people! Share your story with us via email@example.com